


The Clockwork Garden

by Renoku



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Airships, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Fantasy, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence, Romance, a lot of inventing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renoku/pseuds/Renoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chicago, 1893.  The World’s Columbian Exposition is about to begin. Unbeknownst to the people, a dark invention will be unveiled.  Seraphina recruits the help of Jack and Aster, two inventors under the Man in the Moon’s apprenticeship, to travel to America with the infamous airship The Sleigh, in order to stop the madness lurking within the machinery.  The fate of the world depends on them, for if they fail, time as they know it will stop, and the world will cease to exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Sweetfrost and Disobedience's RoTG 1800s Steampunk AU! It is planned to be eight chapters, and then with a prologue and an epilogue. Since I don't know how to work the chapter-numbering function on Ao3, it will just show up as ten chapters.
> 
> The chances of me actually finishing this before October 10th are slim, so... Wish me luck!  
> I hope you enjoy!

Listen.  Do you hear that?

_Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock._

No?  Then listen closer.

_Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock._

That is the sound of the world’s heartbeat.  It is a hollow sound, echoing with the ancient gears of time.  Since the world began, the ringing seconds have ticked by, never counting down, only counting forward.  For all eternity, that sound will carry on, maintained by the very existence of life.

_Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock._

Close your eyes.  Imagine only the sound of the clock.  Can you feel it reverberating through your chest?  Now, add to that sound, as your ears strain to hear more.  Imagine the sound of creaking metal, the dull _lub-dub_ of the double heartbeat.  Hear the springs squeak out every fine-tuned note of time continuing.  The small pings of metal, as they work out the small chinks in the world’s armor.  Steam pours into the air, whistling a melody of machinery.  The hum of the world surrounds you.  And above it all, you hear the shifting of sand, flowing through the cogs of life, cycling through the seconds of time.  Take it all in.

_Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock._

Open your eyes.

Gold.  It is all you see; everywhere, you see golden hues of radiance.  Look past the color, to smell the fragrance of sweet machine oil.  The motor humming with its gold smoke, bronze gears turning out their purpose in the world.

This is the Clockwork Garden.

_Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock._

There is not much time left.  For, even as eternity extends, change comes upon the world.  A heartbeat might still, even for a moment, and return with such ferocity as to bring together a new world.  A new garden, one might say.

Stories tell of this legend, the Clockwork Garden.  Written in black ink, tales spin the image of golden sand.  The gardener, protector of the world, and the sand of flowing time, resides within this realm.  He is the sole keeper of the machinery that provides existence to the world.  And he hides away, toiling in his joy, his dreams of the life he’s created through the gears.  As they turn, they turn, they turn… and they count out the seconds of eternity.

The man loves the dreams he forges in time.

_Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock._

The legends tell also of the broken cog – the rusted gear, too small for it’s own good, but too big to fit into place.  They tell of the one who tries so hard to fit, but cannot find its purpose.  The little gear, with broken teeth, and a crooked plate, the haphazard smile shining in its dulled metal.  Is this a gear of gold?

It’s too late to wipe away the rust.  The small gear is already part of existence.  It is necessary for life.  But it is also the downfall.

Rust can spread in the steam.  And once everything is rusted, time will eventually come to a stop.

_Tick.  Tock… Ti-i-ick…. T-o-o-ock….._

Life will come to an end.


	2. Manny's Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long night of work, Jack and Aster attend Manny's Ball.

The only sound in the near-black London air drifted through the window of the attic workshop.  Tinkering, the subtle clank of metal, echoed throughout the room.  A wrench tightening that screw, the creak of gears yearning to be set into motion, and the symphony of creation emitting from the work of one young man, bent over his workspace.  Around the room stacked various part of metal, shelves of prototypes and abandoned projects.  A single, dull electric lamp sat on one shelf, propping up a leaning stack of aging workbooks and yellowed papers marked with ink.  Springs littered empty spaces around the room, and rusted cogs piled in the corners, forgotten for the moment.  The shadows cast upon them wavered in the firelight of the blowtorch welding away at the workbench.  Motor oil stained the floor, trailing up the bronze plating of the machine.  It smoked, sending an acrid scent into the air, steaming off of the creator’s arms.

He bent over his work, the blasting firelight reflecting off of his goggles.  The flames welded together the wires, the delicate details forming together into one piece of invention.  A bronze staff, like a shepherd’s crook, open near the curve at the top, rested on the workbench.  The creator burnt into a large tank hung from the staff, wrapped around the cylinder like a coiled battery pack, filled with nothing but gears and steam.

The fire flickered off at once.

Letting a long sigh escape his throat, the young man leaned back, pushing up his goggles.  From underneath his stark white bangs, blue eyes glittered triumphantly.  Black dust lingered on his skin, soot and motor oil staining his face.  But the familiar dirt didn’t deter the grin stretched across his face.  Instead, the scent of molten metal and heated fuel filled his mind, clearing his mind to the task before him.

A pale arm, streaked with oil, wiped across his forehead, and he set the blowtorch down on the workbench.  He stretched, groaning as he leaned back in his chair.  His back cracked lightly beneath his large work overalls, the brown cloth stained with grease.

“Yes!” he cried, as he flung his hands back, letting his body fly into abandon.

Suddenly the chair tilted back, and the young man’s eyes snapped open in panic.  He groped at the air around him, to no avail, and the chair crashed back onto the floor as his limbs flailed about.

“Ugh,” the man groaned.  He picked himself up on one forearm, his other hand going to his head.  His goggles jammed into his skin, the edges digging into his forehead.

“Jack?” a muffled voice called from below.  Suddenly, a trapdoor opened up in the corner of the room, and a head poked in.  “Jack!  Are you alright?”

The new arrival climbed up into the attic, scrambling to his feet.  He towered in the small workshop, his head nearly brushing the ceiling.  His grey hair spiked in the front, and a small beard dusted his jawline. Emerald green eyes gazed down at the younger man, concern shining in the dim light.

"Aster!" Jack exclaimed.  “I’m alright, I just fell.  Help me up.”

Without any hesitance, the taller man reached down to take Jack’s arm.  He hefted him up to his feet, and reached a hand out to steady him by his shoulders.  Jack murmured his thanks softly, brushing off his hopelessly dirtied overalls.

“What’re you doing up here so late, Frostbite?” Aster asked, undeterred by the state of Jack’s sleepless appearance.

Heavy bags hung underneath the younger man’s blue eyes, but they faded with the pure excitement that radiated from Jack’s expressions.  The boy nearly bounced with joy at Aster’s question.

In a rush, as if the words would become rusted if he took another breath, he burst, “I’m almost finished with it!  The staff!  I’ve been working all day on it and I couldn’t stop, Aster, I couldn’t!  You won’t believe–”

“Woah, mate, slow down,” Aster’s accented voice cut in, “What are you talking about?”

“The staff for the examination!” Jack retorted, agitated by the interruption.  “I’ve been working on it the entire year, and I’m almost finished!”

“But the exam isn’t until May, Jack.  We have more than a month!”

“Never hurts to get ahead,” Jack cheekily replied.  “Want to test it out?”

The suggestion brought Aster pause, and he seemed to wrinkle is nose a bit.  Perhaps the dust began to take affect as he thought, but Jack continued undeterred.

He took the taller man’s wrist in his own, not taking notice of the way Aster tensed.

“Here,” Jack rambled, “I’ll show you.  You see, this big casket is the main chamber.  The gears are just simple clockwork, really, nothing Manny would be too impressed with, but at least they turn, right?”  He laughed at his own joke, before looking back at Aster.

The man’s eyes seemed distant, his emerald gaze dropped down to his wrist.  Jack followed him, noticing his hand around Aster’s arm.  His pale grip broke from the tan skin like a rusted vice, and Jack shoved his fingers deftly into the deep pockets of his work clothes.

The movement snapped Aster out of it.  He blinked, shifting with the shock.

“Uh, right, mate,” he cleared his throat, “So… what does it do?”

The thin cylinder rested precariously on the table, dubious in its power, and yet Jack’s eyes shown with pride as he looked down on it.  The large chamber near the crook hung like a metal sack from the skeleton, the end funneling open in spouts along the crooked arc.  It looked like the back of a metal beast, shafts of tubing wrapped except for the large, cumbersome openings.

Jack smirked at Aster’s question.

“We’re about to find out.”

Before leaving the anxious observer with that heartening answer, Jack clarified, “It’s supposed to extremely alter temperature, both to hot and cold.  The chamber sucks in the air, and then the steam is created by different amounts of friction.  That makes the heat.  The cold was… harder.  I just hope I got it right.”  Jack gestured to the pronged spouts along the crook of the staff.  “This is where the heat comes out, or the cold.  It focuses everything into a point.”  He paused to look up at the man, expecting a criticism of sorts.

Aster nodded methodically.  “Alright, so what’re we going to do?”

A grin broke across Jack’s face.  “We,” he began, “are going to turn it on.”

With those words, he slapped the cover down on the main chamber, and grabbed a crank on its side.  A few rounds of it, and it began to rumble lightly.  Sparks began to dart across the metal surface, the arcs of electricity lighting up the room.  The staff began to vibrate, sending tremors through the workbench.  Quickly, Jack hoisted leather straps across the ends of it, securing it to the table.

“Should’ve thought of that sooner,” Jack muttered as he backed up, pulling his goggles over his eyes.

Aster stood, dumbfounded, before Jack grabbed his arm, yanking him back roughly.  The older man looked back at him.

“It runs on electricity?”

“Think I’ve got a better hold on it than that Edison fellow.  Not that much better; just a touch.”

The rumbling grew louder, but Aster raised his voice and scoffed, “You Americans are so arrogant!”

“I could say the same for you!” Jack nearly shouted, as the roar of the steam chamber began to fill the air.

The workbench clattered, bouncing on the attic floor, no doubt hammering to the inhabitants beneath them.  The gears clanged loudly, bouncing securely in their places.  A low whine filled the air.  Slowly, the whine grew into a shriek, building in a crescendo of electricity in overdrive.  Clouds of steam poured from the spouts, and Jack raised his arms to shield himself.

“Watch out!” he shouted, wrenching back Aster’s shoulder.

The man turned around just as an explosion burst from the machine.  Aster whipped around to shield Jack, his back faced to the blast.  Jack’s nails dug into his shoulder as a white light filled the entire workshop.  It bled into the walls, shining from the window with the power of a sun, and it locked their eyes shut from the force.  The temperature dropped rapidly, the chill setting into Jack’s fingers, and they began to shiver, releasing slowly from Aster’s skin.

Steam billowed throughout the room.  As it cleared, Jack and Aster blinked the spots from their eyes.  Moonlight filtered through the shuttered windows, the pale beams dancing across the wreckage.

Ice glittered on the far wall.  Large chunks of the luminescent crystal jutted out from the surface, like glittering cliffs of diamonds, frozen beyond melting.  But even as the light hit it, Jack could see the droplets of heat shifting down the sides.

“That was… unexpected,” Aster commented, raising a hand to clutch his neck.

Jack glanced at the man, blue stars still blocking the corners of his vision.  Through his impaired sight, he saw the Aster’s awed expression, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

He shifted his gaze away, and admitted, “I guess it still needs some minor adjustments…”

“Is the staff alright?” Aster asked, hesitantly taking a step forward.

The invention remained unharmed, except for a large patch of ice across the edge of the crook.  Gingerly, Jack reached out for the clasp locking the casket in place.  It felt cold to the touch, freezing in his fingers.  The ice crumbled weakly in his grip, tumbling to the floor in small chinks.  Locking his jaw firmly, Jack lifted the hatch.

Rolling clouds of steam burst from the container, swelling in size to the ceiling.  It spread throughout the room, a chill permeating every crevice.  A shiver ran down Jack’s spine, connecting to his limbs, as the cloud rushed into his face.  The loud wisps of steam roared past his ears, streaking his face red with the cold.  Coughing, he fanned the cloud away, the numb burn beginning to itch his skin.

Frost crept across the lone glass lantern, dimming the light in the room like stained glass.  The inside of the casket was frozen solid.  The gears stuck out from the jagged explosion of ice, their delicate teeth chipping from the cold.  The wires were snapped in two from the flash freeze, the loose copper ends suspended in the solid mass.

Jack gave a weak grin.  “I... I think it’ll still work,” he muttered, hesitantly reaching a hand out to the container.

Aster’s grip clamped down on his arm before he brushed the ice.  “You’ve got some dry burns on your skin, mate.”

Jack followed his concerned gaze to his arm.  Red welts stood out on his pale grease-stained skin, blaringly bright even in the dim lighting.

“What about you?” Jack countered, peering at Aster’s shoulders.

The man shrugged away before Jack could get a good look.  He stretched the motion off, yawning, “Don’t worry about me, Frost.  God, I’m tired, we should get some sleep.”

The younger man raised his released wrist to his chest, clutching it gently.  “But, my staff–”

“We can deal with it tomorrow,” Aster refuted.  “The Spring Ball is tonight, and you need to get some rest or Manny’ll lose his head.”

“Tonight?  What time is it?”

“It’s nearly six in the morning, you gumby.”

“Oh…” Jack murmured.  His grip tightened as he looked back at the staff.  “I guess… I could let it thaw for today…”

“Damn right you can,” Aster muttered under his breath.

The taller man stalked over to the trapdoor that led down from the attic.  The door was frozen lightly on the latch, but Aster only scoffed before kicking it.  A loud crack rang through the workshop, echoing with the tinkles of broken ice as they skid across the floor.  Mumbling vague obscenities beneath his breath, the man reached down to pull the door open.  He began his descent, and then looked up at Jack, who stood still next to his invention.

“You coming, mate?”

Jack stole one last glance at his frozen creation, glittering lowly in the webbed light of the lamp.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

He reached over to the shelf to switch off the electric light, shivering at the cold settling up his arm.  Then he made his way to the door, climbing down the steep ladder to the floor below.

Aster sent the rungs back up into the ceiling, the string cord dangling haphazardly in the dark hallway.  Neither of them bothered to turn on a light, knowing the building well enough to navigate.

“Good thing we sleep on the top floor, eh mate?” Aster asked, green eyes glittering in the near darkness.

Jack didn’t respond, staring quietly down at the ground.

“Jack?  You alright?” Aster inquired, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“What?” the man jumped at the contact.  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

Another moment of quiet passed between them as they made their way down the hall.  Jack could feel Aster’s inquisitive gaze on him, but turned his face away.  The raw skin on his arm began to itch, so he clutched it tighter to his side, rubbing it gently.

In the silence, Aster voiced, “Does it hurt?  The ice?”

“Not too bad,” Jack answered quietly.  He looked over at Aster’s dim silhouette.  “You took most of the blow for me.”

A huff of laughter escaped Aster throat.  Jack let his gaze follow it, imagining the puff of air like a warm trail in the darkness, colored the dull red of heat.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” the man remarked.  Another moment passed, and Jack swore he could here the gears turning in Aster’s mind.  He wanted to reach in there like the casket of his staff, try to see how the man thought.  Four years, and still Aster’s silences left him confused.  Finally, the man continued, hesitantly, “Do you think it’ll work again?”

Jack almost had to smile, and he replied, “It’ll be fine.  It faced even worse when I was trying to alter the _heat_.”

Another laugh left Aster’s lips.  “It really is amazing, Jack.  What do you plan on doing with it?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” the younger man murmured.  “I can’t really see it of any use on a large scale.  I doubt I’d make another – it’s really just for show.”

“Figures,” Aster scoffed, “You Americans never think ahead.”

Jack shot a glare at Aster.  “That’s two jabs in one night,” he pointed out, teasing a little.  “What about you, then?  What are you planning for the examination?”

That stopped Aster.  The man continued in quiet once again, and they both stalked down the dark hallway.

“I don’t have a clue,” Aster suddenly stated, his voice cutting the sentence short in a blunt answer.  “I’ve got the ideas, but when I try… I don’t think I’m really cut out for clockwork.”

The last words resounded throughout the hallway, fading into everything.  The self-doubt seemed to shake the entire building, Manny’s guild sensing the betrayal in those words.

“You know,” Jack began, looking around himself in the darkness, “You could always change your major.”  The exhaustion from the night’s work was beginning to tug on his eyes.  He rubbed at them methodically.

“Again?” Aster reiterated.  “I’ve barely gone the entire semester!  First I tried music, then acting – that was a bloody train wreck – I thought I could do something with my hands… Let’s face it, Manny’s this close to chucking me out of here.”

“What about that easel you keep in the dorm?” Jack asked.  Yes, he really did feel tired, and his feet began to tread on the carpet, leaving oily footprints in the dark to join the countless stains that shown in the daylight.

Aster shrugged, his arm brushing up against Jack’s.  At some point, he’s trailed closer in the black.  “Painting’s just a hobby.  I’m not really good at it.”

“Don’t say that,” Jack began.  Suddenly, a yawn built up in his throat, and he stretched.  His fist bumped against Aster’s face, and he flinched away.  “Sorry,” he apologized, and then continued, “You’re really good, Aster.  I’ve seen your paintings.”

The man chuckled.  “Thanks mate, but I’m not too sure.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Jack stated.  He blinked once, slowly, before his deadweight feet finally stumbled.

Aster yelped as the boy fell against him, but he caught Jack and righted him back on his feet.

“Christ, Jack, how’re you going to dance tonight?”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on it.”

* * *

 

The ball was magnificent.  Golden streamers hung from the banisters, draped between the towering pillars of the ballroom.  Metal struts, steel, arched into a towering skylight, pouring the late sunset into the room.  Among the warm red and orange hues, bright blue streamers poured from the ceiling.  They burst into flame as they fell, disappearing in a flash, like a snowfall of fireworks.  No doubt the work of Jack, but the decorations were nothing unique for an apprentice of the distinguished Man in the Moon Guild.

Flowers transformed into being around the room, blooming vines crawling up the pillars and across the banners.  The bright buds exploded with color, lighting up the hall with enlarged asters and roses blossoming across the brick and stone workings of the building.  The architecture was another creation by a design major, another of Manny’s students.  Statues set about the room displayed the artistic talent of another apprentice.

Said apprentices milled about the edges of the ballroom dance floor, interacting mildly with the guests.  Most of the around twenty college students felt a sheer fear of human interaction.

This emotion was lost on Jack Frost.

As the many guests filtered into the hall, he greeted each of them, bowing politely in his tailored suit.  The dark blue fabric complemented his eyes, captivating his temporary audience in their icy depths.  His gloved fingers delicately held the ladies’ as he kissed the back of their hands gently, and they firmly shook the grips of the gentlemen.

Just as he released the hand of a mildly surprised woman, the wife of a highly esteemed investor, he heard Aster’s voice behind his shoulder.

“A little sociable tonight, mate?” the Australian accent breathed gently past his ear.

A grin broke across Jack’s face, his vision taken by the fluttering of the woman’s deep purple dress as she spun away, disappearing into the growing crowd.  He turned around to face his friend.  Aster wore a black suit jacket, his white gloves spotless and his green bowtie resting beneath his collar.  His usually unkempt hair was brushed, his beard trimmed slightly.  His green eyes gazed amusedly down at Jack, who only smiled larger.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he asked in a mockingly informative tone, “We’re supposed to be impressing the guests.”

Aster scoffed, “Tell that to Auguste over there.  Bloke’s tripping over his own feet trying to show off his sculpture.”

A chuckle escaped Jack’s throat.  “It’s a good sculpture,” he defended, looking at the large statue.  It depicted a man, his elbow to his knee, lost in thought.  “ _The Thinker_ ,” Jack mused, “Creative title.”

“Not as creative as your snow,” Aster remarked.

They both looked up at the ceiling, at the blue streamers flashing into light as they burnt in the air.  The paper disappeared nearly immediately, leaving behind no trace of ash.

“How’d you make it anyway?”

“Nitrocellulose film,” Jack commented plainly.  His eyes shone with a hint of pride, and he couldn’t help the swelling in his chest as he looked at the miniature fireworks.  “There’s not a lot, so it’ll all probably run out before Manny makes his speech.”

“And you decided to go into clockwork,” Aster bantered.

Jack laughed, “It’s more fun!  And there are still some chemicals involved…  What about you?  Your flowers are amazing, Aster.  How’d you get them to grow so big?”

Aster shrugged the complement off.  “That’s just how they are; nothing special.”

“I’m being serious.  Why don’t you go into botany?”

“The flowers are just a hobby, mate.  Can’t make a living off of growing plants,” Aster replied.

“You can if you’re good enough,” Jack replied.  A movement from across the room caught his eye.  “Oh, look, Elizabeth is going up to start the orchestra.  You’d be good at that.”

Aster eyed the boy suspiciously.  “Good at what?”

“Music,” Jack said smartly.

“Mate, have you gone mad?  You know I’m rubbish at music!  I can’t even dance!” Aster exclaimed.

“Are you sure, Cottontail?”

Across the sea of people, the young woman, Elizabeth, walked up onto the elevated platform, addressing her small orchestra.  Her white dress sparkled over the crowd, her blonde hair falling in curling locks down her back.  Giving a quick, cold look over her shoulder, she raised her conductor’s baton, and swiped it down.

The music started up abruptly, he jovial tune filling up the ballroom.  Immediately, the guests took up the waltz, ignoring all formalities as they converged on the dance floor.

“Always so quick, that girl,” Aster remarked, folding his arms across his chest.

Jack smiled, imitating his friend.  He leaned back on his heels with his own arms folded.  “She’s good,” he said.

His eyes flicked up to Aster.  The tall man nodded his head to the gentle rhythm, his scruff across his chin accenting his appreciative frown.

He opened his mouth to comment, “She composed this herself, ri–?”

“Would you like to dance?”

His blazing green gaze froze as he snapped his head over to Jack.  But the white-haired man wasn’t looking at him, nor was he the one who spoke.

The young woman wore black, as if in mourning.  The simple yet elegant dress covered her entire body, except for a small sliver of pale skin beneath the collar wrapped around her neck.  From her broad-rimmed hat draped a black lace veil that obscured her face.  Her eyes glittered just barely through the cloth, and her timidly sly smile peaked out from behind the fan she conveniently held to her chin.

“Surprised?” she asked, hiding her smirk behind her fan.

“Seraphina!” Jack exclaimed, immediately bowing.

Aster followed suit, obviously stunned.  He kept his eyes locked on the woman as he crossed his gloved hand across his chest and tilted forward only slightly.

Seraphina seemed to accept the caution, and turned back to Jack.  “Would you like to dance?” she repeated, holding out a black-gloved hand.

Aster scoffed, “Isn’t it the gentleman’s job to ask?”

“I would love to,” Jack said suddenly, cutting Aster off.  He shot a glare at his friend, accepting Serpahina’s hand.

“Excellent,” she quipped, snapping her fan shut.

Ignoring Aster’s gaze boring into the back of his head, Jack led Seraphina out into the center of the ballroom.  He could feel the tension radiating off his friend’s body, the trembling in his shoulders as he passed.

As they made their way to the floor, the song slowed down, the violins taking over the elegant melody.  Seraphina took Jack’s hand, bringing it to her waist, while she settled on his shoulder.  Slowly, they began to sway, and then they began to move.

Jack spoke first.  “You’re back from America so soon.  How was it?”

“It was… interesting.  It’s nice to see the international frontier from time to time,” she replied, taking an airy breath in her step.

“But why are you here?” Jack protested.  He lowered his voice, and leaned in closer.  “Does it have to do with… Manny?”

Seraphina sighed dolefully, “When does it ever not have to do with Manny?”

“When the world comes to an end, maybe.”

The woman’s grip stiffened on Jack shoulder.  A sharp intake a breath drew in her stomach, and she looked down.

“Look around you Jack,” she commanded.  “This building, this party – the dresses the woman wear are so different from less than a century ago.  The jacket on your shoulders was not heard of twenty years before now.  And in twenty years more, there will be something more, something new.  We are living in a life of progress, of change.”

She pulled herself closer to Jack, her body pressed flush against his for a fleeting moment, as she murmured in his ear, “This era is coming to an end, Jack.  It is necessary we take… precautions.”

His blue eyes flickered, darting across the room.  That red dress, like a fire, and that blue one, as soft as snow, the music filling the air, it all faded to background.  The details she spoke of to him were lost to his vision, and he fell back.  His breath caught; he fell.

Seraphina seized his arms, lifting him.  “I’ve arranged for you to travel to America,” she whispered to him, “You leave in a week, Manny knows of this.  Watch out for my father, and please,” she paused, standing him up again, “try not to freeze the airship; your display in the attic isn’t exactly practical.”

“W-what?”

Suddenly, Aster appeared by Jack’s side, clearing his throat.  His arrival was so abrupt that Jack nearly crashed into his chest.

“If you don’t mind,” the Australian said, “I would like a dance with Jack.”

Seraphina smirked, nodding ever so slightly.

“Very well.  But try not to step on each other’s feet.  I’m impressed,” she mused, looking between them, “you’ve definitely become a better man for Jack since the last time we met.”

“Oi!” Aster exclaimed, heat radiating from his face.  His hands were sweaty, clutching onto Jack’s arms.  “Get out of here, you drongo!”

“Now Aster,” Seraphina teased, “is that any way to treat a lady?”

And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

Aster huffed, automatically pulling Jack into position.  He rested his hand on Jack’s waist, gently, but protectively.  Jack looked up at him, placing his own hand on Aster’s shoulder.

“Are you alright, mate?” Aster asked as they began to move.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.  A real one, I mean, not just Sera.”

“I’m… fine,” Jack said, stepping in with Aster’s odd gait.

“What did she want anyway?” Aster continued, looking over Jack’s head as he scanned the room.

“I’m not really sure,” Jack answered, “Something about her father, and Manny.”

“When is it ever not about Manny?”

At that Jack smiled.  Then a thought occurred to him.  “How would you like to travel to America with me?”

Aster’s foot crushed Jack’s toes beneath his heel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This was written at about 1:30 last night. I'm really tired still. It was not pretty.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> The one historical inaccuracy I have, that I know of, is the mention of Auguste Rodin's _The Thinker_. The sculpture was actually finished in 1889. This story takes place in 1893. So... four years? I hope you guys don't mind. I wanted something well-known and applicable.
> 
> I'll be back up later today with the next chapter, or at least I should be.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> ~Renoku
> 
> P.S. I didn't proof-read this before going to bed last night. Please let me know of any errors.


	3. The Sleigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aster and Jack meet the crew of _The Sleigh_.

The harbor burst with activity.  Bustling all around, people pushed through the crowds to meet their ships.  The river Thames sparkled in the early morning light, the grey waters taking on a flash of blue amidst the yellow.  Steam rolled across the waters, transparent, unlike the green smog of the outlying factories.  No, this was clean vapor, the essence of clockwork.

Aster hauled the luggage cart through the unorganized crowds, its wheels rattling unevenly on the cobblestones.   Ahead of him, Jack bounded forward, his heeled boots clapping on the streets.  The young man gaped at the scene around him, white hair hidden beneath his hood.  In his ears he heard the shouts of the sailors loading their cargo.  The loud chatter of the passerby rumbled through his body, and as he pulled his thin cloak around himself tighter, he listened.

“Load the next barrel, men!  We leave at noon!”

“Did you hear about Marybeth?  I can’t believe…”

“A woman like her, it’s atrocious…”

“Take it through to the harbor, and then set a course for France!”

“I swear if that bastard cheats me at a game of rummy again, I’ll bash his head in…”

“Airship docked at the north tower, sir.  Making a round trip back to America.  Should I ready the cargo for takeoff?”

“Aster!” Jack called back over his shoulder, turning to face the man.

The Australian was sweaty, irritated, and his arms ached from lugging the trunks behind him.  “What?” he barked out, a lock of grey hair falling over his forehead.

Jack chuckled, and walked back to join him.  “The port is on the top of the tower.  Here, let me help.”

He reached for the handle of the cart, brushing against Aster’s sweaty skin.  The man flinched away suddenly, as if burnt.  Jack’s fingers wrapped around the metal bar, and he looked at Aster curiously.

The man looked startled, gripping his wrist.  He said, “You pull, I’ll push it.  Which way are we going?”

Jack frowned for a moment, but he dismissed his uncertainty.  Lifting an arm, he pointed to the tall tower nearest them.  High above the earth, two airships hovered next to the structure, roped in by chains and wire to the steel docks.

“How’re we going to get up there?” Aster groaned.

“I’m sure there’ll be a lift,” Jack said, smiling a little.

Grumbling, Aster walked behind the luggage cart, and began to push.  Jack felt the jolt of the trolley, and began to tug.  Slowly, they made their way to the tower.

“How much,” grunted Aster, “did you have to bring?”

“Enough,” Jack replied cheekily.  “I brought clothes for a month’s worth of travel, and I brought the equipment for my staff.  I doubt we’re staying for the entire fair.”

“Did you bring Sera’s letter?”

“Of course.”

They entered through the double doors into the north tower.  The airy space was not nearly as crowded as the outside world, but a large amount of crew dashed around the vast lobby.  The ceiling hung high above them, supported by a tangled skeleton of steel struts and bars.  Cargo stacked in piles around the room.

Jack tugged the cart across the lobby, as the workers parted to let them through.  They made their way to the center of the lobby, where a large elevator stretched up to the docks above.  A group of men hefting barrels of food on their shoulders filed in, converging into the steel casket.  The operator reached for the lever, and met Jack’s eyes.

“Hold the lift!” Jack cried, just as the metal gates screeched shut.

“Dammit,” Aster cursed quietly.  “Well, it’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Jack nodded, as Aster approached him.  They looked around the lobby, studying the crowd.

“There’s a lot of workers here, aren’t there?” Jack commented.

It was true; few people appeared to be here for pleasure, or for simply travel.  Soot-faced, smoke-stained men clamored about the room, moving and lifting and working to pack the cargo for the ships.

“Makes a living,” Aster said, shrugging his shoulders.

Just then, a small figure approached them, dressed in oversized overalls and a cap covering her small head.  Despite the coal dust streaked across her clothes and the tattered state of her clothing, a distinct scent of exotic spice followed her, like a wind from the East.

“Hello sirs,” spoke the child, her voice American.  She balled her fists at her side as she peaked up at them both from beneath her cap.  Through her brunette locks, her eyes sparkled violently at them.  “What’re you in for?”

Aster glanced uncertainly at Jack.  “Business,” he snapped at the girl.  “You should mind your own.”

Offended, she crossed her arms.  “Fine then,” she said, “do you have a few shillings to spare?”

Another glance at Jack, and he replied, “No.  Are you lost?”

“Please?” the girl continued, frowning and not at all pitiful, “Just enough for a Coca-Cola?”

“What in God’s name is a Coca-Cola?”

At this the girl’s fists loosened in confusion.  “Don’t you Brits have Coca-Cola here?”

“Oi!” Aster cried, exasperated, “Do I sound like a Pom to you?  Go find your cash somewhere else, kid!”

“Aster!”  Jack stepped in, placing a hand on Aster’s shoulder.  The man froze, before suddenly falling lax, leaning back against the luggage cart.  Frowning, Jack knelt down next to the girl.  He met her eyes from beneath his hood.  “Here,” he said, fishing in his pocket for a few loose coins.  “This’ll do?”

The girl nodded.

“Go on then, and don’t get lost.”

“Thank you, sir!” she smiled, her teeth nearly white, and gave Jack a hug.  As she turned to leave, she stuck her tongue out at Aster for good measure.  “Bye Grumpy!”

Jack laughed at her retreating figure, and fell back onto the luggage cart, landing with a thump.  When he turned to face Aster, however, his smile faded at the man’s scowl.

“Aster?  You alright?”

The man only growled lowly in response.

“Oh, come on.  She was adorable!”

Aster remained silent, and looked away, over through the steam clouding the entire tower.

It hung over them as a fog, filled with water ready to rain.  The smell of the steam filled their senses, overlaying everything around them.  In their silence they heard the turning of gears and the locking of the elevator behind it as it reached the top of the tower.

“What’s the letter say?” Bunny asked suddenly.

Noncommittally, Jack pulled it out from beneath his cloak.  He unfolded it, the flowing stationary greeting him.

He read:

_“Dear Jack,_

_I apologize that our correspondence at the ball was short-lived.  Nevertheless, I have spoken with Manny and have commissioned a voyage for you to America.  You will be traveling with a dear friend of mine, the captain of the airship_ The Sleigh _, Nicholas St. North.  He’s a little enthusiastic, but I’m sure you’ll get along with him just fine._

_You will find with this letter two invitations to the World’s Columbian Exposition.  My father is presenting his newest invention, but I believe it’s not the safest decision on his part, at least not for those attending.  Your job is to prevent him from compromising the Exposition._

_But aside from that, take this as a sort of pleasure trip.  I hear Eiffel will be there, the French fellow.  You might like his work.  Another privilege of your invitation is that you get an exposition booth to yourself, so take the opportunity._

_Just, please, don’t destroy anything.  The fair_ is _supposed to be a tribute to development and world peace, after all._

_Best of luck,  
Seraphina Pitchiner_ ”

Jack paused, and read the last line of the letter to himself in his head.

_“P.S. And please, tell Aster to smile.”_

Aster nodded methodically, before looking up at Jack.  “So what’s this invention that Pitchiner is making?”

“It doesn’t say,” Jack replied, looking into the envelope.  “But here are the invitations.  I’ll hold onto them.”

“What do we know about Kozmotis Pitchiner?” Aster mused, “Ever met him?”

“No, but I do know that he used to be one of Manny’s apprentices.  That’s why Sera’s so close to Manny.”

“Really?”  Aster looked surprised, his thick eyebrows crawling up his forehead.  “What was his major?”

“Clockwork.  He made clockwork dolls, a lot of automatons.  Nothing so practical, but still impressive; some of his work is displayed in the gallery.”

Suddenly the elevator clamored open behind them.  Jack quickly stuffed the letter back under his cloak and moved to grab the luggage cart.

They piled into the lift, with some space left next to their trunks.  The operator smirked at the sight of the luggage.

“Going away for a while?” he asked nonchalantly.

“About a month,” Jack said from the back, obscured by the trolley.

“That’s a lot of luggage for a month.”

“It’s more than just clothes, mate,” Aster muttered.  “Take us up.”

“Right,” the operator groaned, waving off the two.

The metal gates screeched shut, and the operator pulled the lever.

As they began their ascent up the tower, the people below became smaller and smaller, nearly disappearing to specks.  Jack gazed through the grating around him, noting the structure of the building.  Through the gaps in the walls, which served no service except support, he spotted the cloth skins of the balloons.  The hot-aired ships wavered in the breeze, tied to the metal docks with heavy ropes.  Steam accumulated around them, like a shield in the air.  The warmth flooded the lift, and a breeze rustled through, stirring Jack’s cloak.

He felt Aster’s eyes glancing at him from the side, and looked over at him.  His grey hair wavered in the wind, his stern face in its perpetual pout.  Jack met his emerald eyes, and smiled softly.  For a single moment, Aster smirked, before looking away through the metal grating.

The rest of the ride passed wordlessly, the lift stopping on the top floor.  The screeching of the gates rang out through Jack’s ears, but they were nothing compared to the roar of the wind around them.  This high up, the air raged through the lofty docks.  Almost immediately, the wind tore Jack’s hood from his head, exposing his stark white hair.  He yelped in surprise before tugging it back down.

“Here you are, sirs,” the operator announced, slightly bored.  “Don’t wander too close to the edge, and have safe trip.”  The warnings sounded more like routine than concern.

Aster chuffed under his breath, and unfolded his arms to grab the luggage cart.  Without a word to the operator, he heaved the trolley out of the lift.

“Thank you,” Jack said softly as he passed.

“Wait, man,” the operator suddenly called, grabbing Jack’s arm.  When he looked back, Jack saw the man smiling.  “You’re welcome.  Which ship are you booked for?”

“Er… _The Sleigh_?” Jack replied uncertainly.

The kindness was gone, replaced by sheer disbelief.  Suddenly, the man laughed.  “Really, now!” he exclaimed, “They take passengers?  Well, I wish you the best of the luck with that mess of a crew!  It’s docked on the north side.”

Confused, Jack only nodded in thanks, before running off after Aster.

He spotted the large ship almost immediately.  Wooden furnishing along the helm sparkled in the morning sunlight, barely dimmed by the steam around it.  Large fins sprouted from its sides, folded neatly along the balloons.  The metal pipes burst with steam along the magnificent beast, nearly black against the bright red of the balloons.  At the bow, the metal twisted into the form of a gaping maw.  From the depths, smoke erupted into the air, sending more wind into the docks.  A flag fluttered in the breeze, black except for the white _G_ adorning it.

“ _That’s_ the ship we’re supposed to be riding on?” Aster exclaimed, stopping in his tracks.

“That’s not a passenger ship.”

“That’s a pirate ship, mate.”

“Ah!  You must be who Manny sent!” called out a booming Russian voice.

The broad man made his way towards them, the crew running around the docks parting for him.  His coat was a red as the balloons of his ship, black fur lining his large shoulders.  With a large smile that curled his white beard, he held out his arms to embrace the two in a bone-crushing hug.

“Ack!” Aster choked, “Who – are – you?”

The man released them both, leaving Jack to heave in air.  He bent over his knees in an effort to breathe.

“I am Nicholas St. North!  Captain of this fine ship!  And you are?”  His eyes twinkled beneath his thick eyebrows, a warm kindness in his expression.

After catching his breath, Jack stood straight and held out a hand.  “I’m Jack.”

Aster kept his arms folded, and added, “E. Aster Bunnymund.”

North’s smile only broadened.  “Good!  Nice to meet new people, yes?  Come, come aboard!”

Jack and Aster exchanged a glance, before they both took hold on the luggage trolley, and pulled it.  They made their way to the dock, a large strip of metal that extended over the edge of the tower.

The ramp looked sturdy enough, and they climbed aboard.

They entered into a metal hallway, with steam leaking steadily through the air.  Jack could hear the gears creaking behind the sturdy walls, and he could feel the whirr of the motor beneath his feet.  Electric lights lit both ways down the hallway, yellow in the thin darkness.  Portholes were open along the outer wall, looking back onto the docks.

“Your rooms will be in the bunkers.  We have private room for guests,” North said over his shoulder, taking a left in the hallway.

They followed him, the cart rolling behind them along the floors.  Both Jack and Aster looked about themselves in awe at the structure.

“Ever ridden in one of these before, mate?” Aster asked.

“No,” Jack breathed, his attention caught by the pipes stretching along the inner wall, winding through the frame of the ship.

North took a turn to the right, deeper into the ship.

“Engine room is there,” North said, gesturing down a hall that led near the back of the ship.  “The bunkers are up these stairs.”

Jack and Aster stopped, looking back at their cart.

“Er…” Jack began to voice.

North turned back to them.  “What is problem?”

“I’m not sure we can get this up any stairs,” Jack said.

North huffed, almost amused.  “Nonsense!”

He barged through both of them, and studied the cart for a moment.  Then, definitively, he reached up, and brought down the two cases with the clothes.

“Take these,” he said to Aster.  Once they were gone, he cracked his knuckles.  “Now.”

He bent down, and took in his large arms the remaining three trunks.

“Hey, be careful!” cried Jack, thinking of his fragile creation.

“No worries!” North called over his heavy load.  “This is piece of pie!”

Jack and Aster were left to gape as North carried the three trunks to the stairs.  Without breaking a sweat, he began to climb.

“Hurry!” he called over his shoulder, unfazed by the two men’s staring.

Aster shrugged off his shock, and followed.  Jack shook his head, amazed, and reached for the empty cart, pulling it along behind him.

The next floor was chaos.  Hammocks were strung between the posts holding up the ceiling, with pillows and blankets thrown across them haphazardly.  And running around the large room was a hoard of children.  Shrieks of excitement cried through the air, mixing with the feeling of joy.  Light poured through the windows on either side of the room, casting flickering shadows as the kids ran past, some storming the others with pillows, and others fleeing in play.  A few slept sloppily in their hammocks, hanging off the edges, on the verge of falling off.

“What in… PHIL!” cried North.  Grumbling, the old man crossed to Jack, setting the trunks gently down on the cart.

A large bumbling man ran up to North from some depths of the confusion.  He spoke in an odd tongue, somewhat like growling, his mouth obscured by a large bush of a beard.

“Where is Tooth?” North asked accusingly.

“Here, North!” called out a woman.

She darted to Phil’s side, her hair an air-blown mess.  Green and purple streaks flew through the short cut, and orange goggles held it back against her head.  She wore a pilot’s uniform, the wool-lined jacket blown up against her body.  A wide, hesitant grin plastered across her face, but concern was etched in her violet eyes.

“Has anyone here seen Baby Tooth?  I told her to go check on the cargo an hour ago, but she hasn’t been back!” the woman exclaimed, looking around herself as she spoke.  Just then, her eyes met Jack’s.

“Oh!  Who is this?” she cried.

“Jack and Aster,” North answered quickly.  “Tooth, get everyone under con–”

“You two must be the passengers!” Tooth burst, ignoring North, “We’re taking you to America, right?  Oh, the ride is just wonderful, and so is the ship, you’ll love it!  Now, open your mouths!”

“Wait, what?” Aster began to ask, just as the woman was on him.

She seemed to leap at him, her fingers prodding immediately.  “Oh!  Such wonderful incisors!”

“O-oi!” Aster exclaimed.

“And you!” Tooth shouted, moving to Jack.

The young man immediately backed away, shaking his head no, his lips clamped shut.

“Tooth,” North commanded, placing a hand on her shoulder.  “Make sure kids do their work.  I must show Jack and Aster their rooms.”

“On it!” Tooth smiled, her attention immediately torn from Jack.

And with that she darted off.  North sighed, and then gestured for the two to follow him.

Aster held back to help Jack with the cart, and then he asked, “You have kids on this ship?”

“Not mine,” North said.  “Orphans.  As long as they help out, who am I to say no?”

“But isn’t it dangerous to keep them on a _flying ship_?”

North chuckled, “Life is dangerous, my friend.  Does not mean we do not live, no?”

At the edge of the room was a set of wooden double doors.  North pushed them open with a flourish, opening to a large room.

Two twin beds sat on one side, with a large worktable across them.  A window was set above the table, looking out at the dock.  The walls were metal, like the rest of the ship, but a decorative rug rested beneath their feet.  A white curtain hung between the beds, dividing them.  It hung on a track, able to be drawn back.

“This is your room.  Make yourself comfortable.  Lunch is right after takeoff; do not be late!  Now, I must attend to… the children.”  He spoke the last words with a hint of fear, and a shudder seemed to make his beard stand on end.

Jack smiled as the man left, and then addressed the room around him.  He frowned and nodded appreciatively.

“Well then,” he began, “time to get to work!”

“Mate, what?” Aster said, looking at him as if he’d just said the ship was about to fall.  “We just got here, Jack!”

“I have one week to finish the staff before we arrive at the fair.  I need this time,” Jack protested.

“But what about…?”  Aster stopped at the determination in Jack’s eyes.  Sighing, he raised a hand to brush back his hair.  “Fine, but I’m heading up on deck for some fresh air.  You’d better come to lunch.”

“I promise, Aster.”

The man hesitated.  “Alright, now give me a hug.”

“What?” Jack asked, his brows furrowing.  “Why?”

“’Cause this deathtrap could fall any minute, and I want to give you a hug that doesn’t smell like Old Russian,” Aster stated, holding out his arms.

Jack laughed, and stepped forward into Aster’s embrace.  He was right; it didn’t smell like Old Russian.  It smelled like the flowers at the ball, and the fresh cologne that Aster kept on his nightstand.  He breathed in deeply, and released the man.

“Alright?” he asked, looking up at Aster.

The man grinned, albeit a little hesitantly.  “Alright, Frostbite.”

Jack chuckled at the old nickname, and then waved the man away.  Aster smiled even wider, and left.

Sighing, Jack turned to his luggage.  First things first, he decided, and reached for the trunk with his staff in it.  He hit the locks, and began to unpack.

 *****

A little later, he was seated at the worktable, bent over the casket of his creation.  He’d fixed all the damage from the week before, and was now looking for the cause of the error.  It had to be the steam generator, or maybe it was just that gear… his mind was addled for the moment, at the constant whirring of the engine around him.

Suddenly he heard a noise behind him.

He whipped around, screwdriver in his fist, to see the girl from the lobby.

“We’ll be taking off soon, and we’ll be having lunch,” she said seriously, violet eyes twinkling.

“H-hi,” Jack replied.  “Are you a part of the crew?”

“Yep!” she said.  “I’m Baby Tooth!  And you’re Jack, right?  I saw your boyfriend Grumpy up on deck.  He told me to ‘Rack off.’  What does ‘rack off’ mean?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jack said determinedly.

The girl only shrugged.  “Okay, well, like I said, takeoff is in a few minutes.  You should come with me to the dining hall.”

Jack looked back at his staff.  The metal glittered in the light through the window.  Outside, he looked through the wispy steam at the lobby.  Men hauled cargo onto ropes and nets, using pulleys to haul them up.  The commotion was loud, the cries of work and labor reverberating in his head.

“Yeah, okay,” Jack said, turning away.

He sat up, leaving the screwdriver behind on the table.  Taking Baby Tooth’s outstretched hand, he left the room.

“You don’t happen to be related to Tooth, do you?” he asked her.

“Yeah, she’s my mom.  I’m the only one related to her, though.  But we’re all a family.”

“…Does she always look at people’s teeth like that?”

“Yeah, she’s weird about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to get this up yesterday... But then Tumblr happened. Tumblr always happens.
> 
> Writing a talking Baby Tooth was weird. Not necessarily bad, just weird... I hope I at least have her consistent.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed! :3  
> ~Renoku


	4. Joseph Kelly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peaceful night is destroyed by the notorious King of the Crimps.

At first, everything was quiet.

The Sleigh drifted through the air high above the Atlantic, surrounded by the fog of steam and clouds.  When in flight, it’s fins unfurled from the sides like webbed oars, swimming forward in the sky.  It added a peaceful rocking to the ship, like the sea far below them.

Waves of wind rushed past the three tall masts, upon which propellers were mounted.  They whirred quietly in the night air, the wooden blades creaking lowly as they kept the craft hovering in the sky.  The glow from the moon reflected off of the sails, pouring light down onto the deck.  Each beam created sparks of blue kaleidoscope jewels across the wood; it was the atmosphere of serenity – peace.

The echoing of North’s boots thumping along the deck carried throughout the ship.  The man went about his rounds, accompanied by the larger, brutish members of his crew.  Last Jack saw, he was watching the bow with Phil, keeping an eye out for any threats in the night.

Through the sturdy structure of the ship, steam poured within the pipes and clouded the crevices behind the walls.  Down below lie the sleeping children.  They dangled in their hammocks, some simply on the floor to save themselves the risk of falling.  Tooth walked among them, smiling softly at their peaceful faces, and the small glimmer of freshly brushed teeth.  Jack could hear her cooing gently, even over the sounds of the snoring and the small whimpers of dreams.

Behind the closed doors of Aster and his quarters, he sat at the workbench, tinkering away with the staff laid across the wooden surface.  The metal glinted slightly in the moonlight blinking through the porthole.  A cloud of steam emitting from the pipes periodically blotted out the beam, but Jack barely took any notice, too immersed in his work to care.

The candlelight flickered tentatively on the table next to him, one of two lanterns lighting up the room.  The other belonged to Aster, who sat with knees curled up this stomach on his bed, sketchbook propped open on his thighs.  The scratching of his charcoal on the parchment mixed with the small clinks of metal and the creaking of the ship.

Everything felt at peace.

Sighing, Jack leaned back from his work, pushing his goggles up to his forehead.  He stretched, a satisfied groan leaving his lips.

Aster glanced up at him, and then barked, “Oi!  Don’t move yet.”

Jack looked back at the Australian.  “Why?” he asked.

The man gave an irritated humph, his green eyes flicking away quickly.  He wore only his pale cotton trousers, frayed ropes tied around his calves to keep them from slipping.  His bare chest, brushed with greying brown hair, contrasted his tan skin, which glinted bronze in the dim light of the lantern.  At Jack’s piercing gaze, he drew his legs up closer to his body.

“Never mind,” he grumbled, fiddling with the pencil in his hand.

Curiosity entered Jack’s mind, and he stood, pulling off his goggles with the motion.

“What are you drawing, Aster?” he asked, walking towards the bed.

“Nothing!” the Australian answered, all too quickly.

“Aw, come on, Cottontail, that’s no fun,” Jack teased.  He made to get on the bed.

“Mate!” Aster cried, “Don’t get on the sheets with that rubbish all over you!  These are clean!”

Jack laughed, before he lamented and backed away.

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll get changed.”

“You’d better get bathed is more like it.”

“We’re on a ship in the sky, Aster.  You’re making perfect sense.”

Aster only grumbled lowly in response, and a chuckle bubbled up Jack’s throat.  He threw the curtain between the beds closed, the thick fabric falling with a thump against the wooden floor.  His fingers found their way to the apron tie behind his back, and he let the straps fall before pulling the heavy leather over his head.  The oil-stained cover fell to the floor.

Nonchalantly, Jack shrugged out of his cotton shirt, letting it fall down next to the discarded apron.  He nudged it out of the way with his foot and knelt down to open the chest underneath his bed.  It opened, creaking loudly in the room.

The sound made Jack realize how quiet everything was.  He glanced over his shoulder at the curtain.  Despite its thickness, he still saw shadows through it from the lantern on Aster’s nightstand.  The man’s silhouette remained on the bed.  He’d relaxed his legs, spreading them back out across the sheets, and he had his sketchbook propped open on his knee.

Jack knew that Aster wasn’t able to see him, but the one-sided view made him uncomfortable.  He snapped his gaze back forward to take out another white shirt.  He slipped if over his head.  Almost shyly, he began to shimmy his trousers over his hips.  As quickly as possible, he threw on a softer pair of cotton pants, and threw his dirtied clothes into the trunk.  He’d wash them tomorrow; help Tooth out with all of the kids’ laundry as well.

A small smile made its way to his face, and he thought of Baby Tooth.  The little devil had refused to stop tormenting Aster during the past two days they’d been on the ship, and the Australian was at his wit’s end.  Jack enjoyed the company of the young girl, as it made Aster loosen up afterword.  Out of the earshot of the child, Aster spoke fondly of the kid too, and the look of contentment that passed his face in those moments sent sparks of joy around him.  It made Jack almost giddy from wanting to tease him about growing soft.

Jack closed the trunk, and it slammed from the weight of the lid.  It scratched loudly on the floor as he pushed it under the bed, the screeching noise filling the room.

“Would you keep it down, Jackie?” Aster said from behind the curtain, “You’ll wake the little ankle biters.”

“That doesn’t seem like such a bad thing,” Jack replied.  “You’d have a blast with Baby Tooth.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate,” the man grunted, but Jack didn’t miss the softer edge to his words.

Jack pushed the curtain back against the wall.  “You know you can’t resist her,” he smirked.

“I can’t resist yelling at her if that’s what you mean.  The bloody sheila’s almost as annoying as you are.”

Jack laughed, and leapt onto the bed.  Aster’s writing hand jumped off of the page of his sketchbook, and he cursed loudly.

“Watch it, you gumby!  You almost made me mess up!”

Jack scoffed, “Mess up on what?”  He peered over Aster’s shoulder, not noticing how the Australian shied his head away when Jack’s chin brushed against his skin.  “What’re you drawing, anyway?”

“It’s none of your business!”

“Aw, come on, please?”

Jack batted his eyelids pitifully up at the man, meeting the bright green eyes with his own.  A pout worked its way onto his face, teasing even more than necessary.  He ended up with his chest pressed flat against Aster’s side, but he didn’t notice.

Aster held his gaze as long as possible, before blinking away.  His breath caught, but he passed it off as a sigh.

“If I let you look will you stop bothering me?” he asked finally.

Jack poked his bottom lip out and answered, “Maybe.”

“Cheeky little bastard…” Aster muttered.  He thrust the book out to Jack.  “Fine.”

“Yes!” Jack cried, his frown breaking into a gaping smile.  His white teeth shone in the dim lantern’s flickering glow, and he accepted the sketchbook gratefully.  “Thank you!”

“Don’t sweat it,” Aster said, propping his elbow up on his knee to observe the boy as he flipped through the pages.

The book was open to a detailed sketch.  The charcoal marks stained the page like his oil; only less splattered and more beautifully shaped across the rough parchment.  The thin layer of black coloring left white stars spotted between the gaps of rock, miniscule pebbles on the surface of the page.

The picture was of Jack.  He was seated at the worktable, his back bared to his own eyes as he bent over his project.  The thin lines of the goggles strapped around his head were blatant against his white, parchment-colored hair.  Before him, his staff was spread across the bench.  Scattered gears and puddles of oil littered the table around it, dripping down to his apron on his lap.  In the black lines Jack’s clothing looked more worked by the wrench in his hand than his creation did.  The rugged charcoal made his shirt look threadbare, his pants looked rough against the wooden stool.  In Aster’s art, no longer was he the American-raised English gentlemen.  Instead, he was a creator, and he was created from as many mismatched parts as the inventions he welded together.

After an eternity, Jack tore his gaze from the page, his blue eyes wide with awe as he stared up at Aster.

“This is amazing, Aster,” Jack breathed.

The man seemed shocked.  “Y-you’re serious?” he stammered, “Y-you really like it?”

Jack blinked.  He realized the picture was of him, with entirely close detail, and he looked away from Aster.  A rush of heat colored his face, tinting his cheeks a light pink.

“I-I mean, the details are fantastic!  You got the gears all in there, and the staff…” Jack trailed off as he tried to think of another compliment that didn’t involve the subject of the picture being of him.  “The um… the um… the lines are…”

He could feel Aster’s enthusiasm dropping as he sat beside him.  The man’s eyes fell, and he looked away, letting his elbow off of his knee.  His hand scooped down to his lap as the man turned his gaze to the wall, suddenly finding interest in the grain of the wood.

“No, what I meant to say…” Jack finally just burst, “You drew me really well!”

Aster perked up immediately, his face whipping around, green eyes sparkling with surprise.  Tentatively, a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, exposing his always perfectly straight front teeth.  It was almost adorable, and Jack flushed to look back down at the sketch.

“Y-you really mean that, Jack?” Aster asked.  His arm crossed over to grab the edge of the sketchbook.

When he pulled it over, Jack shifted as well to look at it, leaning into Aster’s side.  Aster’s chest expanded with deep breaths, as he looked down at his work with a hesitant pride.

“Yes,” Jack said, “The, um… my apron is really rugged, like my trousers, right, and the uh… the uh… My shirt, I really like those um… those… wrinkles…”

Even with Jack’s lame compliments, Aster chuckled, half out of disbelief.  “Thank you, mate, it really means a lot.”

A smile broke the awkward state of Jack’s mouth, and he said, “I really like it, Aster.  Why don’t you major in this for Manny?”

And then the ease in Aster’s body was gone.  Suddenly his shoulders were tense, and his hair seemed to bristle, his unshaven jaw locking beneath his skin.

“Nah, mate,” he replied, his voice flat.  “I’m not good enough for that.”

“What do you mean you aren’t good enough?” Jack exclaimed.  His voice was loud with a sort of shock.  “This drawing is amazing!”

“It’s just luck, Jackie, I can’t explain it!  It’s usually not like this…”

“So?  Take a look at my inventions, Aster,” he protested, gesturing wildly to the table.  “None of my inventions work!  Well, except for the flash paper, but that wasn’t my invention.  But I keep trying until it does!  It’s like what that Edison fellow said, what was it, ‘I destroyed the light bulb one thousand times–’”

“‘I have not failed’,” Aster interrupted, “‘I’ve just found ten thousand ways–’”

“‘–that it won’t work!’” Jack finished.  “See?  That’s why we take classes about it Aster, to help us get better.  You’re art is great!  For instance,” he broke off, taking the sketchbook back into his hands, “Just what else have you drawn in here?”

As he began to turn the page, Aster suddenly shouted, “No, Jack, wait!”

There was another picture of Jack.  It was a portrait, drawn from memory.  Jack’s hair was blown away from his forehead, sticking up in corners in little cowlicks.  His eyes shown even in the charcoal shadows, glistening with a sort of tiredness in his features.  Despite the sleepy gaze, his mouth was upturned into a bright smile, his teeth somehow whiter than the parchment.  Highlights lit up his skin like the morning sun, displayed so readily in the black and white sketch, framing his nose, and the way his cheeks carried a pale blush when he woke up in the morning, with exhausted bags underneath his eyes from a long night of tinkering up in the workshop.

And even with all the flaws so obviously drawn out on the paper, he looked happy.

With a rushed horror, Aster snatched the sketchbook from Jack’s hands, clutching it to his chest.  His fingernails bit into the parchment, his knuckles white as chalk.  His tanned face seemed to pale his eyes wide and scared.  He cowered against the wall, putting as much space as he could between himself and Jack on the small bed.

His lungs heaved beneath his ribs as he hyperventilated, and Jack only stared.

“I’m – I’m sorry, I–”

Jack reached out a hand, and he flinched.

“Aster, it was really goo–”

“No!” Aster cried.  “No, just – just get off, would you?  Get off!”

He thrust out his feet, practically shoving Jack from the bed.

“Aster!” Jack exclaimed as he found an unsteady footing on the floor.  “Aster it was really good!  I – I liked it!”

“No!  You never saw it!” Aster shouted.

Suddenly he leapt forward, and Jack jumped back.  The younger man’s knees caught on his bed, and he toppled back.  Aster towered over him, fists balled in an embarrassed rage.

“A-Aster…” Jack said hesitantly.

The man’s shoulders shook.  Jack froze as he saw the tears.  They traced crystal lines down his cheeks, staining his tan skin with dark trails of humiliation.  His teeth were grit in his locked jaw, and he glared down at Jack, not with anger, but with shame.

“Jack,” Aster began.  His words caught in his throat, and he choked, before he continued, “Jack, I–”

An explosion rocked the ship.

Aster was thrown down on top of Jack, landing roughly on the bed.  Dazed, the man looked up with half-lidded eyes at the younger inventor.  The tears still blinked at the edges of his vision, but most had been knocked away by the impact.

Jack stared wide-eyed at the Australian, before he realized what was happening.  A cry of a child sounded from the room over, and Jack’s head snapped back to gape at the door.

He pushed Aster off of himself, running from the bed to the door.  He yanked the handle, and it opened with a crash of the wood when it slammed against the wall.

The cries had turned into wails of frightened children scattered across the bunks.  Jack rushed into the crowd of them, trying to see if any were injured.

Baby Tooth popped up next to his arm, and said, “Jack!  What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I responded, placing a hand out towards her, “Just, stay here, I’m going to go find your mother.”

“I’m right here, Jack,” Tooth called over.

A young boy was cradled in her arms, William the Absolute Youngest.  He was unconscious, with a bruise forming on his head.  Blood trickled from his hair, staining his temple.  His chest rose like the fluttering of a bird.

“He’s alive, he just fell out of the bunk,” Tooth said, calmly despite the chaos around her.

“Can I help?” Jack asked.

Another explosion sounded from outside the ship, missing this time.  Jack reached out to one of the pillars for support, and Toothiana tensed, a hand reaching out to the side.

“No!  Go find North!  Help him!” she shouted over the roar of the explosion.

Jack only nodded, before darting to the door.  He dodged past the children on the floor, wanting to stop to help them.  But they seemed to be all right, already standing and steadying themselves.  Baby Tooth darted around the room, kneeling beside anyone injured.

Just as he reached the door, he heard Aster call, “Jack, mate, wait up!  Where are you going?”

“Up to the deck!” Jack said.

Aster reached him, and grabbed his arm.  “Jack, you don’t know what’s up there–”

“I know that North might be in trouble.  I have to help him.”

“Alright, then I’m coming to,” Aster declared, determined.

Jack scoffed, “I never said you couldn’t.”

They dashed down the hallway together, their feet slapping on the metal grating.  Jack reached the stairs first, beginning the climb up as fast as his legs would bend to accommodate him.  His bare toes caught dangerously in the mesh of the steps, but he made it up safely.

They emerged onto the deck, Aster coming up right behind Jack.  He stood close to him, protectively shielding him from behind.  The sight made Jack tense, and he balled his fists at his side.

North stood in the center of the deck, both sabers drawn as he stared down the airship coming up off the port side.  It was massive, three masts scraping the clouds directly above them.  A large iron figurehead adorned the front of the warship, in the shape of a snarling dragon, with a cannon fixed in its gaping maw.  From its topmost mast hung the black flag of traitors and thieves, the Jolly Roger.

Jack pushed through the large Russian crewmen bustling about the deck, following North’s orders that he spat out in his mother tongue.

“Phil!” he shouted, surprisingly in English, “Pull in oars!  Спешность!”

“North!” Jack called, “North how can I help?”

The Russian spun around to face Jack.  His expression was grim.

“I cannot fight.  Not with the children aboard,” he said simply.  “I must call for cease fire.”

“Are you a loon, mate?” Aster asked.  “These are pirates!  You can’t just negotiate with them.”

At that North smirked.  “Ah, but I am pirate too, да?  Is nothing I can’t handle.”  He raised his hands to his mouth, cupping them to bellow, “CEASE FIRE!  HOLD CANNONS!  I REPEAT: CEASE FIRE!”

His voice echoed over the loud flames of the cannons, and Phil raised the white flag up the mast.

With a loud creak, the maw of the pirate dragon closed, and the cannon disappeared.

Aster and Jack stood their ground next to North, and Phil came down to join them in the center of the deck.  Aster raised his fists, ready to fight, while Jack kept his own hands relaxed at his side.

Phil grumbled, and thrust a sword to him.

Jack looked at it incredulously, shifting his gaze between the weapon and Phil.  “No thanks.  I can handle myself.”

Phil shrugged, and shouldered the sword to his own side.

The pirate ship drifted up next to The Sleigh with the loud creaking of its propellers.  The balloons in its sides did little to sustain its weight, most of the ship carried by the loud engine emitting steam in great clouds of pollution.  It blotted out the stars, throwing the entire night sky into darkness.

And on the center of the deck, a tall, slender man stepped forward.

“Ah!” the man exclaimed, “Nicholas St. North.”  He enunciated each part of the name, staring North directly into the eyes as he spoke.

He came up to the very edge of the ship, climbing onto the plank balcony.  He wore a large, feathered hat on his head, with the frills of his seafaring uniform peaking out of his sleeves.  His eyes were a deep blue, his black hair scruffy across his face.

“What a pleasure it is to see you after all this time, old man.  Still carting around the little brats?”

North’s jaw set in his mouth.  “Joseph Kelly,” he spat, hatred seething from his lips.  “What do you want?”

“Oh, Nick, haven’t I told you just to call me ‘Bunko’?  I mean, by God, even her Majesty the great Victoria does it.  Can’t you show me the same respect?”

“What is it that you want, Joseph Kelly?” North repeated, his patience wearing thin.

The man appeared hurt, his narrow face frowning and stretching his waxy skin to its limits as he glowered.  But he quickly smiled again, and leaned out across the gap between the ships.

“Why, the same I want from every ship in the air, my dear friend.  I mean, if I’d known it was your ship, I’d have probably relented, but nonetheless, now that we’re here… I must demand you hand over all of your treasure.”

North smirked.  “This is a passenger ship today, my friend.  There is no treasure on board!”

Joseph Kelly’s frowned deepened.  “Well you must have something.  I mean, even one of the brats would suffice.  I’m on an errand you see, transporting a few passengers of my own.  Fifty-two pounds per man!  I’d assume a child would sell for a good price, if it’s reasonable.”

“People are not to be sold, Joseph,” North said dangerously.  “Leave us be.”

Joseph Kelly’s devilish smirk reappeared, and he leapt back from the balcony, landing on the deck.  His eyes met Jack’s.  A shudder ran through the young man’s body.  The pirate’s gaze was unnerving, insane, like a demon fighting within a human’s body.  It was dark as the deepest ocean, and just a hidden.

Joseph Kelly then stated, in a most cordial manner, “Well, if they can’t be mine, then they certainly can’t be yours.”  He raised a hand to the air, signaling to one of his crewmen, “Fire the cannons!”

“Wait!” North cried.  “Wait!  I do have things!”

Kelly froze, and lowered his hand slowly.  “What ‘things’ might they be, Nicholas?”

“Rum,” came the simple answer.

A stunned silence befell Kelly.  And then he laughed, a loud guffaw released into the air.

“Rum!” he cried, tears in his eyes.  “Very well, go fetch it then!  I doubt you’d need rum on a ship full of brats anyway!”

North nodded, and gestured to Phil.  The large crewman left, disappearing below deck.

Kelly’s gaze focused in on Jack again.  His dark eyes shifted to Aster’s shirtless form, and then back to Jack.

“Oh,” he mused, “I truly hope I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

North huffed, “Only you, my friend, assume things such as that.”

Jack shuddered, and stepped closer to Aster.  The Australian tensed, glaring daggers across the way.

He opened his mouth to call over, “The hell do you think you are?”

Joseph Kelly blinked.  “Why, I’m Bunko, The King of the Crimps,” he said, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.  “Who else would I be?  And if anything else, who would I lack?”

Aster blanched.  “Excuse me?”

“Well, somebody has to be a Bunko, and somebody has to be a King.  Why might I not be both?”

“I think you’re a little too bunko to be anything else, mate,” Aster muttered under his breath.

Jack couldn’t help his small laugh.  As soon as the chortle left him, however, North shot him a glare.  Joseph Kelly straightened, stiff as a board.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice rising an octave.  In hysteria, he shouted, “Are you mocking me?  Making fun of me?  Do you know who I am?  I am Bunko, King of the Crimps!  I’ve rounded fifty men in less than three hours!  I have twenty-two below deck right now, and if you keep laughing, I’ll throw you in with the lot of them!  Shut up!  Shut up!  SHUT UP!”

His voice echoed over the air.  Everyone was frozen, stunned into silence by the childish fit.  Aster gripped Jack’s arm, pulling him closer.  Jack didn’t fight, huddling within Aster’s grasp.

“That mouth,” North spoke, “will end you one day, Joseph.”

“I swear I’ll murder the lot of you,” the pirate wheezed.

“Watch your tongue.”

Just then, Phil emerged from below deck, hefting two large crates in his arm.  Both were stacked with amber glasses to the brim, glistening in the blotted starlight.  They all lacked labels.

“Take your rum,” North ordered.  He nodded to Phil, who brought them to the edge of the ship.

Kelly nodded, and two men dropped down from the masts on ropes.  Within seconds, they’d collected the crates and stolen them over to Kelly’s ship.

“Will you leave us, Joseph Kelly?” North asked plainly, holding out his hands in surrender.

The air was tense, and Joseph Kelly studied them carefully.  Finally, he smirked.

“My name is Bunko, you old fool.  I swear I’ll murder the lot of you.”

I loud clang of metal sounded from below.  A large cannon emerged from the hull of his ship, glinting black as death in the starlight.

“No!” North cried, “There are children!”

“And I, my friend,” Joseph Kelly said, “am a pirate!”

The cannon went off with a boom, the ball crashing into the part side of The Sleigh.  The sound rocked in Jack’s ears, deafening him for a moment, as the world began to spin around him.

Joseph Kelly sped off into the night, his ship disappearing in the smoke of his terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! This took so long! But I have to get it all done by November 30th… I've pretty much given up on NaNoWriMo, though, since I'm over 13,000 words behind. I'm going to finish that too… Maybe…
> 
> But anyway, I ended this chapter prematurely, simply because I wanted to get it up. I can't believe that it's been a year since RoTG came out! :D I just want to thank everyone in this fandom for making me feel so welcome and helping me get inspired to write again. It's really meant a lot to me.
> 
> Um… On this chapter, a note: Joseph Kelly was a real person. He was a crimper, which is similar to a slave trader. In 1893, he infamously delivered 22 men to a dealer for $52 dollars each. However, unknowingly, the men had drank embalming fluid beforehand, and most were actually dead at the time of the transaction. He got away with it, though. In this fic, the 'rum' North gave him was actually embalming fluid, as will be mentioned in the next chapter.
> 
> I feel like I rushed the ending to this chapter, the whole pirate scene, but I wanted to get it up really badly. If it becomes clear that I won't make the deadline, then I'll probably relent and go at an easier pace. However I'm finally getting back into the writing rhythm, which is amazing!
> 
> Anyways, I love you all, and I hope you have a great RoTG Anniversary! :3
> 
> ~Renoku


	5. The Staff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has to put out the fire left by Joseph Kelly.

The flames roared into the air, painting the night sky black, blotting out the stars with the foul smoke.  The fog of wispy clouds above them became roiling with heat and poisonous fire.  Even from the center of the deck, the hot teeth burned across the space to attack Jack and Aster.

North stared, aghast, after Joseph Kelly’s ship.    His sabers dropped to his sides, clattering to the wooden deck in despair.  The metal of the blades glinted in the firelight, flickering as if the intense heat melted them.

The Russian’s jaw worked beneath his skin, opening and closing in shock.  Sweat beaded on his brow, rolling down his forehead, the only part of his body not suspended in a static blow.

He mouthed silently the name of his engineer.

“Tooth…” he murmured, almost dazed.  Suddenly, his gaze became enraged, and his brown furrowed in anger.  The emotion rolled from his shoulders, radiating from him almost a lethally as the flames.  He opened his mouth, and roared, “Tooth!”

Quickly, he knelt down to retrieve his swords.  He whipped around to face Jack and Aster, both of whom flinched at the hostility that glared in his eyes.

“Both of you!” he ordered, “Put out the fire!  Phil!”  The large man snapped to attention immediately.  North’s gaze hardened.  When he spoke, his voice was dead quiet.

“Let us make a call.”

Phil grumbled in response, his face completely serious underneath his bushy mustache.  The two men stalked off towards the helm of the ship.  North’s sabers glittered dangerously now, colored blood red by the fire.  A sudden gust stole over the ship, and a wall of smoke enveloped them, separating them behind the rolling mass of dark shadows.  In the center of the deck, Jack and Aster were left alone.

The two men stared after the path North had taken, stunned.  Unconsciously, Aster placed his arm around Jack’s shoulder and pulled him to his chest.  Jack didn’t resist, turning into Aster’s body.  The Australian’s skin was almost scorching to the touch, heated by the flames.  Sweat shimmered on his chest, as it did on his forehead and on Jack’s pale face.

Jack broke the silence between them, his voice small compared to the snarling flames.

“You heard what he said.  Let’s go put the fire out.”

Aster released Jack, taking a step back.  Jack blinked, just realizing what had happened, both with the fire, and with Aster.  However, Aster seemed more preoccupied with the former.

“How the bloody hell…” his voice trailed off as he stared at the flames.

Jack shifted his gaze to look at the fire.  The flames looked like liquid rubies, lava given life to fight in the air.  When they disappeared at the tip of their flames, it was not with a wisp like a candle, but with the loud crack of a whip.  The fire bit at the ship like a ferocious beast, and every moment sounded like a growling thunderstorm in the throat of its maw.

The sweat dripped down his back and stuck his shirt to his pale skin, and Jack wished the fire would only be cold.

“Aster,” he said suddenly, “I’ve got an idea.”

“What…?” the man turned slowly, still out of it.

“Aster, we need to get back to our cabin.”

The flames snapped on the wood, and Aster’s gaze tightened.  “Wha – mate, are you insane?  The flames are in the way!”

“Aster, it’s the only way!  There’s nothing else on this ship we can use!”

“Why can’t we just smother them?” Aster exclaimed, exasperated.

Jack paused.  “You do realize how stupid that idea is, right?”  He stepped forward to grab Aster’s arm.  The Australian shot his gaze down to the hand, before he snapped his green eyes back up to Jack’s face.  Jack continued, “The flames are in the boiler room.  They’re getting too close to the balloons.  You know what’s in those balloons, Aster.”

The Australian rolled his eyes, “It’s just hot air, mate.  Just a bunch of…” his eyes widened, and his jaw locked open, “helium…”

He looked back at Jack, and their eyes met.  “We’d better get down to the cabin,” he said.

They both nodded, before taking off.

They dashed to the steps to head below deck.  Far enough away from the flames, the metal was only warm to the touch.  Jack’s bare feet slapped on the mesh, rattling it like chains.

He shouted over his shoulder back at Aster, “If we can, get as many kids out as possible.”

“Alright,” Aster replied.

Jack ran from the steps to the door.  It had been closed after they’d left.  Jack tried the handle; it was locked as well.

He backed up, ready to ram it, when Aster grabbed his shoulder.

“I’ll do it, step back.”

Jack protested, “I can do it myself!”

“No, I’ll do it,” Aster said, and the tone of his voice made it final.

Reluctantly, Jack stepped back to let Aster through.  The man braced himself, setting his shoulder, and then he released a cry from the back of his throat.  With the shout rumbling from his lips, he ran forward, and smashed into the door.

The wood splintered, and they ran into the room.

No one was there.

“Where did they go?” Jack asked.

Flames licked the walls, slipping in between the floorboards of the room.  A small fragment of the wall was torn away by the impact of the cannonball, crashing down to the boiler room one floor below.  In the hole of the ground, twisted metal jutted through, the jagged edges of pipes clawing at the air.  Steam rises into the room, to mix with the smoke falling down.  The twisted cloud creates a haze over the room, like perpetual dusk.

There is a glimmer in the air, a sort of shimmering gold.

Jack knelt down, looking to the floor.

“Sand,” he murmured, confused.  “There’s sand in here.”

Aster comes up behind him, and places a hand on his shoulder.  “Come on, mate,” he says over the flames, “We need to hurry.”

Jack nodded.  “Right.”  He made to stand up, and took a step towards their cabin.

The floor creaked beneath him.  The sound was louder than the fire, rising above the roaring in a single note of a wooden bow.  It shook down to Jack’s bones, and he felt his stomach drop before the wood did.

It shattered beneath his feet.  A scream left Jack’s throat as he felt the weightlessness enter his stomach.  Aster rushed forward, throwing himself to the ground.  He slid forward, and made a grab for Jack’s hand.  Their fingers connected, and Aster held fast, pulling Jack’s fingers into his fist.  Jack’s scream cut off abruptly as he felt the painful tug in his shoulder from his own weight.  He broke off into silence staring below him.

Mere inches beneath his feet, a single ripped pipe spired towards the ceiling, a jagged spear that scraped the air.  Around it the flames circled, framing it in its horrible glory, and below it was a pile of golden sand.

Jack’s breath shuddered in his throat.  Even as he hung there, the smoke began to drift over the sand.  It circled his bare feet, singing his pale skin.  His chest heaved, and he coughed when the poison entered his lungs.

“A-Aster!” he choked out.

The Australian grunted, and another hand came down to join the first.  The man leaned back, and braced his feet underneath him, before he began to pull.  Jack emerged from the pit of fire, his body outlined by the glow of the flames.

Aster hauled him onto the floor, and knelt over him.  Jack hacked another cough, lurching onto his side.  Worry knitted Aster’s eyebrows together as his green eyes scanned over Jack’s injured form.  His white hair was covered with soot now, and his feet were red from the heat.  The wood had ripped his shirt on the side, and the flames had licked across the hem of his pants, blackening them in the fire.

“You alright, mate?” he asked, returning his gaze to Jack’s face.

The blue eyes shone up at him in defiance.

Jack coughed, a loud scraping noise from his chest, before he replied, “Y-yeah.”  He pushed himself up from the floor.  “We need to hurry.”

Aster made as if to push Jack back down, to check him further, but he stopped himself, and relented.

“You’re right; let me help,” he said, and he instead moved to wedge his shoulder beneath Jack’s arm.

“I’ve got it, Aster; worry about yourself.”

“Mate, I’m just trying to–”

“Your chest, Aster.”

Aster looked down at himself.  The wood had scraped him when he’d dived for Jack.  Splinters stuck into his skin, the ships of wood drawing blood that dripped down his chest, mingling with the shine of sweat in the light dusting of hair.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he muttered, just as the itch of his injuries began to settle in.

Jack pushed himself away from Aster, standing steadily on his feet.

“It doesn’t matter; let’s go.”

They crossed the rest of the bunker to their cabin.  The room was so far untouched by the flames, but the heat of the fire permeated the walls, leaking in to affect them still.

Jack rushed to the desk, and bent over his staff.

“Let’s see… I need to…”

He sat down, muttering lowly underneath his breath.  He took his tools in his hands, and set to work.  The chamber of the staff opened with a pop, and the skeleton of gears and springs was revealed.  Jack set himself upon it, his screwdriver breaking through the barriers to fix the delicate details of the creation.  Every part mattered, every single cog had a purpose, and every spring was just as important as the next.  He wasted no space within the chamber, and his creation came together in his hands.

Aster stood awkwardly by the door.

“Mate, can I help?”

Without looking over his shoulder, Jack replied, “You can put on a shirt.”

Aster looked down at himself.  He flushed slightly, and looked back up.  “The bloody ship’s on fire and all you want me to do is put on a shirt?” he bit, his voice rising in volume.

Jack’s hand slipped, banging against a cog.  He quickly fixed it, and then he set his tools down gently.  He turned on his stool to look back at Aster.

His eyes shone bright blue with a sort of excitement.  The soot stained his hair and his face, filling the hollows of his cheeks with the black dust.  Oil stained his hands, even from the short moment he spent in the chamber of his staff.  Those hands gripped his thin cotton pants, wrinkling his knees and pulling up the hems to expose his bony ankles.  He released his hold, and the fabric fell away with black handprints on them.  Despite the filth, Jack only carried a small smile on his face.

He scanned over Aster with his eyes.  His tongue wet his lips slightly, and he said, “Get the blood cleaned up.  I don’t want you getting any more splinters if I fall again.”

His lips parted to smile hugely at Aster.  His white teeth shone, and he turned back to his work.

Stunned, Aster stood for a moment, unable to process the words.  Then he blinked, and he grumbled unhappily.  He crossed to his bed, and began picking the splinters out of his chest.  He gasped in pain when one stuck a little more on his skin.  The blood was dried now, but the injuries itched like a small blaze on his ribs.

His green eyes flicked up to the open door.  The flames were in the bunker now, cracking loudly.

“Jack, mate,” he said hesitantly, “How much time do we have until it reaches the helium?”

Jack muttered under his breath before he replied, “Any time between now and five minutes.”

“Um… Jack?”

“What?”

“The fire’s getting closer, mate.  I think it’s almost finished with the boiler room.”

“I’m almost done.”

“Jack…” Aster repeated, warning with his voice.

The flames roared, crawling along the wood towards their cabin.  A burst of fire exploded from the depths of them, booming across the space to attack Aster.  The Australian leapt from the bed, dashing to his shirt abandoned at the foot of his bed.

“Jack!  Hurry!” he cried, tugging the green-dyed cotton over his head.

“I’m almost done!” Jack repeated.

“Jack!”

“Be patient, Aster!”

The man ran up to the table, shouting over Jack’s shoulder, “We don’t really have time to be patient, Jack!  In case you haven’t noticed, we’re running on a bit of a schedule here!”

“Finished!” Jack announced, slamming the lid of the chamber shut.

He leapt from the chair, taking the staff in his hands.  The butt of the staff barely missed Aster’s head, and the man cursed as it swung by him.  Jack ran to the door, holding the tip of the staff before him.  He aimed it at the door, just as the flames began to eat away at the frame.  They reached their tendrils out, trying to grab onto flesh, but Jack stood his ground, and leveled the staff.

He opened his mouth, and yelled:

“Thermal Modulator, Ice Function, test drive number 47!”

Aster piped up from behind Jack, “Wait, test drive?  What do you mean it’s a test dr–”

A blast of ice exploded from the spouts along the shepherd’s crook.  The cold air shot straight to the door, pinpointing the target.  A bright light filled the room, and the ice burst through the flames.  They were doused immediately, and a thin layer of frost replaced it all, painting the walls with the glittering shine of crystals.

Jack opened his eyes, peeking hesitantly out at the wreckage.  When he saw the white paintings of snow around the room, his mouth gaped open.  Slowly, he straightened, lowering the staff in his grip.

“It worked,” he breathed, disbelief in his voice, “My god, it worked.”

Aster stood beside him, just as stunned.  He swallowed, and then said simply, “It worked.”  He blinked, and then muttered, “Well of course it was going to work – Jack made it – but it actually worked.”

The smile that spread across Jack’s face was ecstatic.

“Aster, it worked!” he cried.  He leapt into the air, whooping with joy.  “It worked, Aster, it actually worked!  I – I can’t believe it, but it actually worked!”

Jack burst out of the cabin into the bunker room.  The ice spread halfway across the room, glittering as bright as diamonds on the wood.  The cold air burned after the intense heat, but Jack didn’t care, relishing of the feeling of the frost on his bare feet.  He ran across the space, yelling with pride the entire time.

Aster followed him, more hesitantly.  He shivered at the cold, but at the sight of Jack, he couldn’t help but smile.  Then he saw the hole at the end of the room.

“Uh, Jack,” he called, “There’s more fire.”

“What?” Jack asked, and he stopped abruptly, whipping around to look at the hole.

The flames began to grow again.  The firelight entered the room first, filling the crystal frost like a liquid blaze.  The ice glowed blood red, flowing with the flickering light emerging from the pit.

Jack only smirked, and brought the staff up again.

“I’ve got this.”

Flames erupted from the tip, the heat searing the wood and joining the fire from the pit.

“Jack!” Aster cried.

“Sorry!  Wrong switch!”

Sheepishly, Jack hefted the staff and slipped the ice switch.  He blasted the flames back, and more frost spread out from the point of impact.

Jack continued to stalk forward carefully towards the pit, stepping around the one he’d fallen through earlier to the large one at the end of the room.  He stood over the open mouth of the pit, and aimed his staff down.  Another blast of ice shot fro the staff, clearing away the flames.

Pipes erupted hot steam into the air, and it all rose out of the pit, melting the frost quickly.  Far below, the wooden floor was covered with sand.  The entire room was engulfed with flames, creating more steam in the boilers.  Twisted metal created a tunnel straight down.

He would have to jump.

“I’m going down, Aster!”

The Australian perked up, and stared, alarmed, at the boy.  “Mate, wait!”

But Jack already had begun to climb.  He set his staff across the gap, and it let him dangle over the gap precariously.  He was still ten feet above the floor below.  A shudder passed through his body.

Jack took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and dislodged the staff.

He dropped down to the floor, bending his legs to absorb the blow.  He ended up falling on his side, and he gasped as his staff banged him in the side.  The wind was knocked out of his lungs, and he groaned in pain, rolling onto his back.

Aster peered down the hole.

“Jack, are you alright?” he called.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Jack replied back.

“I’ll be right down!”

Jack sat up, and shouted, “No!  There’s too much fire!”

The flames filled the room around him, the heat clogging up the air more than the smoke.  A thin layer of sand covered every inch of the room, including the metal boilers.  Despite the fire, the grains refused to melt, and between Jack’s toes, they felt cold to the touch.

Jack stood, and hefted his staff in his hands.

“Here we go,” he muttered.

The ice covered everything, replacing the sand on the walls.  The frost spread, creating curling patterns on the wood, and it looked like a wonderland of metal and snow.  Crystals of the ice glittered against the fire, and soon, only in the dim light.  The fire was put out, and the cold came to take its place.

Jack stood in the center of the room, admiring his handiwork.

Suddenly the door to the boiler room creaked.  The frost around it crunched, and it opened.

Aster poked his head in, and arched an eyebrow at Jack.  “Mate, why didn’t you just take the stairs?”

Jack frowned.  “Shut up.”

Then they both smiled, and Aster entered the room completely.  He rushed forward to hug Jack, pulling the younger man into a strong embrace.  Aster was shaking, and then Jack felt the tears on his shoulder.

Jack smiled, and buried his face in Aster’s neck.  “It’s alright, Aster, I’m alright.”

“I know, Frostbite, I know, but…” he broke off again, tucking his head lower to hug Jack tighter.

Jack sighed, and took a deep breath.  Aster smelled of fire now, the scent of his cologne gone.  But he still smelled of the flowers from the ball, of the spring in London, and of the earth far below them.  He smelled like smoke, and he smelled like paint.  Jack hugged him tighter.  He liked the smells.

“It worked, Aster…” he murmured against the man’s neck.  “It really worked…”

Aster sniffled, and seemed to calm down.  When he spoke, his voice was steady.  “It did, Frostbite, and it was amazing.”

They separated, and gazed at the frost around them, glittering on the walls.

“Where do you think everyone went?” Jack found himself asking.

“I’m not sure,” Aster answered.  “Let’s go and find North.  Maybe he knows.”

Jack nodded, and they left the boiler room, to make their way up the metal stairs to the deck.

They emerged onto the deck to see the night was becoming pale.

“It’s a little soon for morning, isn’t it?” Aster muttered.

“Jack, Aster!” cried a familiar voice.

Baby Tooth ran into Jack’s side, hugging the boy close.

“You two put the fire out!” she exclaimed, excitement radiating from her voice.  “How’d you do it?  Did you use your staff-thing?  That’s so cool!”

Jack laughed, and patted Baby Tooth’s head.  “You’re alright!  But… what happened to you?  And where’s everyone else?”

“We’re right here, Jack.”

Tooth was standing on the deck, surrounded by the rest of the children.  She smiled softly, and walked up to him.

A frown tugged at her lips, and she wrinkled her nose.  “You both smell terrible.  Are your teeth okay?”

“Our teeth are fine, Tooth,” Jack laughed, swatting her hands away from his mouth when they twitched upwards.

Aster was stunned by Jack’s shoulder.  “H-How…”

Tooth only winked, and chirped, “We all have our little tricks Aster.”

“And I,” called North, “made a call.”

He walked down the large wooden steps that led up to the helm of the ship.  He was free from soot, completely clean, as was the rest of the crew.  He smiled down at Jack, and then reached out to pat Aster on the shoulder.

“You both did well,” he said.  “Thank you, my friends.”

Jack scoffed, “It was nothing…”

Aster opened his mouth, most likely to comment on Jack’s near-death experience, but decided against it.

North laughed, and leaned back to guffaw into the sky.

“That is good, then, for both of you!  Now, I must go see to damage.  You two go…” he waved his hand at them, dismissing them, “relax.”

Jack chuckled, and looked up to Aster.  The gruff Australian couldn’t suppress his grin.

They left North for the moment, and walked to the railing.  The rest of the crew dispersed, Phil and Tooth following North to the boiler room, and the children going off somewhere, most likely the kitchen.

Jack smiled, and bumped against Aster.

“Thank you for saving me,” he said quietly.

Aster replied, “No problem, mate.”

Jack nodded, and they looked out at the sea of sky before them.  The clouds were below the ship now, and they looked like a soft ocean of cotton.  A flock of birds emerged from the fog, like flying fish, before dipping back down again.  The sun was rising over the horizon, painting the puffs pink and orange.  The yellow light spread above them, beckoning in the new day.  It was peaceful, and the cool air rushed through the ship again.

Jack spoke, “Aster, before Kelly shot at the ship, you were going to tell me something.  What was it?”

“Hmm?” Aster asked.  “What do you mean?”

“You remember; it was barely half an hour ago.  I saw that picture of me in the sketchbook, and then you’d gotten mad.  Then you were about to say something, when the cannons had fired.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mate.”

Jack nudged Aster again.  “Yes you do.  You were crying then, too.  What was it you were going to tell me?”

Aster was silent.  After a while, he replied, “It’s nothing.”

Jack looked up at the man.  He gazed out at the sky around them, staring off into the distance.  His eyes were dry, but Jack saw something in them.  He couldn’t place it, though, so he only nodded.  Frowning, he turned back to the sky as well.

North climbed back onto the deck, grumbling under his breath.

“A lot of damage,” he muttered to himself.

“Not as much as if could have been,” Jack called back over his shoulder.  “It’s a good thing you had all that sand down there, North.  It kept everything from catching on fire faster.”

North arched a thick eyebrow at Jack.  “What sand?  There was no sand.”

“What?” Jack asked, confused.  “But, I saw it!  It was everywhere, and…” he trailed off, when he realized that North was only looking at him as if he were crazy.

“Well,” North continued, “It seems that Tooth is not able to make all the repairs herself, and it is not safe to travel to America directly.”

Aster stood up from the railing, and asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

North only smiled.

“Phil!” he called.  The large man stumbled up the stairs onto the deck, and stood at attention.  North smirked, and unsheathed a saber form his belt.  He raised it into the air, and bellowed:

“Set course for North Pole!  We go to Santoff Claussen!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I always feel weird when I have to write action scenes. Does anyone have any tips? Any certain kind of diction I could use to make it better?
> 
> Oh, and I know that the North Pole and Santoff Claussen are not the same thing in the Book!Verse. However, it fits for this story, so I'm making them the same location. Of course, this means that Katherine's going to be there~ (I haven't read the newest book, so I'm not including Nightlight because apparently things happen with Nightlight in that book and it involves his character, so I don't even know; I'm just not stepping into that territory.)
> 
> Besides that, I hope you liked this chapter. We're getting more into the plot now, and the next chapter will have more of the concept in it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> ~Renoku


	6. Santoff Claussen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Aster arrive at Santoff Claussen, and find a familiar face.

Through the hole in the wall, the cold wind washed into the bunker.  The edges of the wood broke off in fragments, splinters still chipping off by the rushing wind.  The sky outside was stuck in a perpetual confusion; above, the clouds rolled gently, thick with snow and ice that whirled through the air.  Below, however, the stark white glaciers, dotted with small bursts of ocean blue, jutted into the air, sometimes as soft as the clouds above, and other times as sharp as crystal diamonds on the rocks.

Jack shivered as he looked out of the hole.  He drew the feather-lined coat around him tighter, tucking his face into the soft neck of the snow blue hood.  His breath steamed out in front of him, pale compared to the thick cotton above.  Grey gloves covered his hands, and black boots his feet, even though he’d protested profusely against both of them.  No matter how much he loved the cold, Aster had told him, this temperature was too dangerous even for the young inventor.

But that wasn’t what he was thinking about at this moment, as he stared out of the broken hull, unconsciously trying to decide white mass of white was the sky and which one was the ground.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the hole like a spout, whipping the hood from his head.  He yelped as the snow bit his face, mingling with his white hair that danced in the wind.  Quickly, he tugged the hood back over his head, and folded his arms, letting his shivers die down.

He really loved the cold.

“That’s the first sound you’ve made since breakfast, mate,” called Aster from the door.

The Australian entered the near-empty bunker, gazing around at the bare wooden walls and the two holes in the charred floor.  He was bundled up tighter than a Christmas present, two thick jackets over his three cotton shirts as he grumbled unhappily under his breath.  Thick boots came halfway up his calves, and his hood was pulled down to cover his grey hair.  A black scarf covered the bottom half of his face, and yet the man still shivered.

Jack didn’t answer, only glancing at him before turning back to the hole.  If Aster was offended, he didn’t show it, instead crossing the room to join Jack.

When he felt the cold from the exposed space, he cursed aloud.

“I don’t know how you stand it, Jack,” Aster grumbled, pulling his scarf further up his face.  He glanced sideways at the younger man.  “You really should be wearing your scarf.  You’re face will get red.”

Again, Jack didn’t answer, gazing off lost in his thoughts.

Aster stepped up close to the American.  He hesitated, before raising an arm to wrap it around Jack’s shoulder.

The young man flinched at the contact.

“God, Aster!” he cried, “You’re jacket’s colder than the snow!”

Aster grumbled, and grabbed Jack back again.  “Maybe if you wore your scarf, then it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Jack laughed, “And give up the only freedom I have left?  No thank you.”

Despite the outburst, he leaned back into Aster’s embrace.  The wind swept past them, fluttering the feathers at the very edge of Jack’s hood.  His hair wavered, barely touched now, as the ship sped north.  The smile slowly slipped from Jack’s face, and he became lost again as he gazed out over the ice.  They remained silent for a while, the howling the wind and the creaking wood the only sounds in the room.  Aster looked down at Jack, the fabric of his jacket crumpling lowly as he turned his head.  Mild concern knitted in his eyebrows and he jostled the boy with his arm.

“What’re you thinking about, Frostbite?” he asked.  “You’re not usually this quiet.”  He then muttered under his breath, “Never this quiet, actually, now that I think about it.”

Jack looked down at the pipes below them on the hull of the ship.  A few were shattered as well, steam erupting from them to blow behind the ship with the wind.  The oars were even further down, gracefully cutting through the air and snow to guide them to their destination, the Pole.

Jack sighed, “I don’t know, really… I’m just – I’m thinking about the sand.”

“You’re still on about that?” Aster exclaimed.  “Mate, it’s been two days!  No one else saw the sand!”

“You saw it!” Jack said, snapping his face up to glare at Aster.

A fire burned in his blue eyes, fierce with determined truth.  His lips were thinly shut, locked in place as he looked to Aster.  The snow whirled around him dangerously and it framed his face to sweep his hair across his forehead.  The sight sent heat to Aster’s face, and he looked away in embarrassment.

“I don’t know what I saw,” he replied gruffly, “It was the smoke, Jack.  A hallucination.”

“No it wasn’t!” Jack protested.  “It was everywhere, Aster!  There were piles of it down in the boiler room!  It was under the ice, and it was gold… I just don’t know where it all went!”  He looked back out at the sky, his gaze hardening again.

Aster was silent for a moment.  Finally, he hugged Jack closer.  “Mate,” he said, gently, “There’s no point in dwelling on it.  Whether there was sand or not, it’s not here anymore.”  He bent his head to place his chin on Jack’s hood.  “Come on, Frostbite, let’s go get so–”

He was cut off by the bell that rang through the ship.  The clear sound carried down from the deck, echoing in all the pipes and resonating within the wood.  Aster perked up, looking around in question, while Jack turned as well towards the door.

A breathless Baby Tooth suddenly rushed into the doorway, stopping underneath the frame.  Her blue and violet eyes shone bright with excitement, her brown hair flung across her face.

She grinned broadly, and breathless, she announced, “We’re here.”

She rushed back off to the deck.  Jack and Aster looked at each other, both of them confused.  But even as he thought, Jack felt a bubble of anticipation building in his chest, about to burst as he smiled.  Aster returned the grin, and they both rushed to the door Aster’s arm still around Jack’s shoulders.

They emerged onto the deck to a magnificent sight.  Off the starboard side, the cliffs of ice rose up high into the air, towering above the ship even at this altitude.  They glimmered clearly like crystal, the bright sunlight painting rainbows within the shards.  And buried deep in the ice were the roots of the largest tree either of them had ever seen.  Wood weaved through the frozen water, swimming gently in their static positions, building up higher and higher until they peaked out of the ice.

They merged to create the trunk that soared into the sky.  At this cold, the sight of green leaves stunned Jack.  But even so, the boughs of the great tree bowed down, hanging just over the ship.  In awe, Jack stared at the plants, the sun glittering through them.  Something about them was odd, artificial.  Suddenly, one of the leaves loosened, and dropped like a stone, clattering onto the deck.

Jack bent down, taking the rock in his hands.  “An emerald,” he breathed, looking up to Aster.  The man was just as confused, glancing to Jack with green eyes that shone just as brightly as the gemstone.

The ship rounded the corner, and their breath was taken away.

More trees, these ones red with rubies, another with sapphires as blue as the sky, and even another with smooth pearls set in a bed of curved opal, hung over the canyon of ice.  In the arctic wonderland, a magnificent palace hung from the cliffs, as bright as the stones, if not more beautiful.

The spires scraped the sky, large bulbs on the tops of the metal towers.  The palace looked like a castle set into the ice, bright grey against the clear crystal.  The windows were stained glass, and the vines of the trees draped over the open walkways that crossed between the towers.  Far below the canyon dropped into icy caves that darted the cliff surface.

Suddenly something darted past The Sleigh, and Jack jumped, falling closer to Aster’s grip.  The flying animal galloped away into the sky, its flank brown and sleek.  From its antlers, icicles spiked back, narrowed into sharp tips that stretched behind it like the tail of a rocket.

“Is that…?” Aster asked, trailing off.

“That, my friend, is Comet!” North called.

The large man stomped down the steps from behind the captain’s wheel.  He looked out at the palace, a broad grin across his face, with his hands on his hips.

“Old boy can never sit still,” he commented, as Comet did a flip in the air, dashing towards the castle.

Another reindeer suddenly leapt from above them in the cliffs, falling in a slow arc.  Just as it was level with the railing of the ship, it reared its head, and curved up into flight.  The wind seemed to follow behind it, blowing across Jack’s face.  He shivered, tucking in closer to Aster, but his awed eyes never left the flying animal.  Its coat was a glistening white, smooth in the sunlight.  Icicles also hung from its antlers, only they weren’t as sharp as Comet’s, slanted only slightly back.  They seemed to be perpetually melting, glimmering with wet water.

“And that is Dasher,” said North.  The man turned his eyes up to the cliffs.  “Ah!” he exclaimed, “And there are Dancer and Prancer, always fighting, those two!”

Jack followed his gaze, to see the two reindeer North was talking about.  The larger one had a slightly blue coat, the shade of grey of Aster’s hair, and large antlers that spread out from its head.  Strings of ice, beaded with snow, draped from the broad stalks, hanging like curtains.  The other was smaller, with a deep brown coat like earth, and had green vines, like the trees, across its antlers.  White smoke huffed from their nostrils as they fought.  With a loud _clack_ they struck each other, running full on to attack.  Their hooves pounded on the ice, almost cracking it by the sound.

“Vixen and Cupid are most likely inside,” North muttered, drawing Jack’s attention back.  “Blitzen… MiM knows where Blitzen is.  And that leaves… Ah!” he exclaimed again, “Hello, there!”

He rushed past Jack to the railing, like a small child at the candy store.  Jack laughed at the man’s expression, and finally made to detach himself from Aster to follow.  Aster instead grabbed Jack’s hand, and walked with him.  Jack paid no notice to the touch through his gloves, struck by the sight.

Comet and Dasher weaved through the air, somersaulting over each other with ease.  They fell down along the cliff, and into one of the many caves that dotted its surface.  Immediately after, two more reindeer darted out.

The first one was smaller, with a brown hide that rippled underneath its muscles.  Embedded into its side were gemstones, blue and red and green all pressed into its fur.  It huffed its lungs as it ran, its sides catching the sunlight.  The gems sparkled brightly, not hindering it at all.

Quickly, the second deer overtook it, flying ahead with an extra gallop of its legs.  For the most part it looked normal, with a healthy brown coat and large antlers sprouting from its head.  But in the very center of its face, its nose was replaced by a large, shining ruby that glowed even in the sunlight.

What stunned Jack more were the two riders atop both of the reindeer.  The one on top of the smaller deer was a young boy, with hair as white as Jack’s.  On the other, it was an old mad, with a large beard that flew behind him in the wind, leaned forward on his deer to give it more speed.

They darted straight for The Sleigh.  As they drew close, they turned up into the sky, going higher above the masts.  Whirling around the wooden and metal propellers, they descended, spinning in show as they drew closer to the deck.

The crowd of children on the deck parted, letting the arrivals through.  The hooves of the reindeer clattered onto the deck loudly, the wood creaking as they stomped joyfully to a stop.  Finally, they stilled, their heads turning around every which way to see all the children surrounding them.

“Rudolph and Donner!” North cried, coming forward to pat the animals on the nose.  “You two are looking marvelous today!”

The old man atop the larger reindeer, Rudolph, cleared his throat.

“Do I not look marvelous as well, Nicholas?” he asked, waving his hand into the air. 

He dismounted, sliding off the reindeer with ease and only stumbling a little once his feet hit the deck.  He held a large, curved staff in his hands.  The wood arched into a large crescent-moon shape at the top, with a knotted butt at the other end.  Atop his head was a large pointed hat, and he wore a thick robe over his underclothes.  Behind his bushy beard and even more prominent eyebrows, he smiled kindly.

“Ombric!” North exclaimed, opening his arms to embrace the man.

“Ah! Ah – Ha, ha!” Ombric gasped through the bear hug.  “It is good to see you too, as always, Nicholas!  Nightlight is here as well; give him a hug, won’t you?”

The young boy slid off of Donner, much easier than Ombric, landing lightly on the deck.  He also carried a staff, more like a spear, with a diamond shard at the very end, tipped to a wicked point.

“Nightlight!”

North made to hug his as well, but he held his staff in front of him defensively, shaking his head.  Obediently, North stood down, and the boy smiled, white teeth shining.  His green eyes sparkled playfully.

Suddenly Tooth attacked him from behind, emerging from the crowd of children.

“Aha!” she cried, “How are you, darling?  Now, open your mouth so I can check those beautiful teeth of yours!”

Nightlight fought her off, irritated.  Discouraged, Tooth fell back with her engineer’s goggles lopsidedly strapped to her head.

Jack grinned at the display, joy and excitement radiating through his veins at the new arrivals.  The children circling around the group slowly began to diverge, approaching the reindeer.   Baby Tooth was the first to reach Rudolph, petting him tentatively.  The deer bent down its head, and licked the young girl on the cheek, and she chuckled brightly.

The sound made Jack move, and he stepped closer.  Aster was frozen in place, his hand still gripping onto Jack’s.  When Jack moved, he noticed where their hands connected.  Jack’s eyes snapped up to Aster’s, and he pulled away gently.

Aster looked back at him, and murmured, “This is… this is impossible…”

Ombric heard this, and looked up, finally noticing the two strangers to the crew.  “Who is this?” he asked North, nudging the man in the shoulder.

“Oh, this?” North replied, “This is Jack and Aster.  They travel with us to America.”

Ombric approached the two.  He looked Jack close, staring directly into his face.  Startled, Jack backed away, until his back bumped into Aster’s chest.  Automatically, Aster raised his hands to grab Jack’s shoulders, protectively drawing the younger man in.

Ombric’s eyes shot up to Aster, before looking back down at Jack.  “Yes… yes, this is very good.  Nightlight!” Ombric suddenly shouted, making Jack flinch, “Go tell Katherine we have new guests!  I’ll ride in with them.”

Nightlight nodded in answer, leaping atop Donner again.  He set his fingers into the scruff around the reindeer’s neck, and Donner pawed the ground, getting ready for takeoff.  The children quickly cleared a path to the railing, and Nightlight set off.

He shot over the edge of the ship, diving down into the air.  Captivated, Jack yanked himself out of Aster’s grasp, pushing past Ombric and the children to the railing.  Nightlight and Donner fell down through the wind, and finally Donner began pumping his legs.  With easy gallops, it leveled out, weaving gracefully through the air towards the palace.  His body rippled with every bound, until they shot into the caves, and disappeared.

Aster came up behind Jack, pressing against the young man’s side.

“Did you see that Aster?” Jack cried, looking back at the man.  “They flew!  Those reindeer flew!”

“Yeah… they did…” Aster said, still in awe of the spectacle.

Ombric huffed out a laugh, cackling kindly at them.  “What, man!” he exclaimed, “Do they not have flying reindeer where you come from?”

Aster shook his head.  “No, they don’t.”

“Well of course they don’t!” Ombric declared.  “I raised them myself!”

Jack laughed, turning back to look at the man.  “Really?”

Ombric nodded, pride in his stance.  “From the day they were born.  They came out with their stones, they did.  Or their antlers grew with their markings.  That’s how you know they’re flyers.”

Rudolph pawed at the deck and grunted, put out by the lack of attention.  Jack let his hands leave the railing, and walked towards him.  The reindeer twisted his head to look at Jack, his nostrils huffing out with white frost on his breath.  His ruby nose glowed bright red, and Jack smiled at the sight.  The young inventor raised a hand before the reindeer, hesitating for just a moment, before he patted Rudolph gently.

Rudolph snuffled, and then sneezed.

“Aw!” Jack said, and he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in his chest.  He smirked, “You alright there, buddy?  Got a little sand up your nose?”

Ombric suddenly froze, his squinted eyes widening at Jack’s words.  He whipped around, and he brandished his staff.  The crook caught Jack underneath the chin.

“Oi!” Aster cried, leaping forward towards Jack.

His hands grabbed Jack’s shoulders, and he pulled him back into his arms.  Ombric’s piercing gaze shifted from the American to the older man, and he squinted again.

“You... What was that you said about sand?” the old wizard asked.  His voice quivered, fraught with worry.

“He was talking to the reindeer, you bloody wanker!” Aster exclaimed, tucking Jack’s head into his chest.

Jack looked out, his blue eyes wide.  The wind swept his hair from his face, plastering against Aster’s coat.  He stammered, “I – I saw some sand in the fire.  But it disappeared!  No one else saw it except me and Aster.”

Ombric quirked his bushy eyebrow, and straightened, thumping his staff into the wood.  He huffed an annoyed breath.

He said, “Whoever said anything about the fire and sand?  It must have been a hallucination, boy.  A trick of the mind.”

Jack broke from Aster’s grasp, and protested, “But – But you said–”

“Nothing about the sand, yes?” Ombric declared.  The man turned to North, effectively dismissing Jack.  “How are you, North?” he asked the large Russian. “You’re lucky I was awake to get that call the other night.  I assume you’re visiting for repairs?”

North chuckled sheepishly, and replied, “Yes, we are lucky.  The hull is broken on port side, and the boiler room… Well, it is a sight for white eyes.”

“I believe you mean sore eyes, my old friend,” Ombric laughed.

Jack interrupted again, “Wait!  North called you during the fire?  So you do know about the sand!”

Ombric frowned at Jack.  “I honestly have no idea.  All I did was transport Tooth and the children up onto the deck.”

Jack gaped, turning his head to look between Ombric and Tooth, who stood at the front of the crowd of children, waving shyly.

“Wait, you… you… what?”

“It’s called magic, my boy.  Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Jack was left with his mouth hanging open, as he tried to form stunned words, but failed.

Aster stepped in front of Jack, and spoke in the young man’s stead, “That’s ridiculous!  Magic is just stories – it doesn’t exist!”

Suddenly Ombric was gone, as if he’d blinked away into the air.  Aster seized Jack by the arm, and they both looked around themselves in shock.  Nothing was there, except for North, who smirked at the two of them, Tooth, who only carried a small smile, and the crowd of children and the crew members, some that bustled around the ship while other only stood, holding their breath in an anticipating silence.

“You two are scientists, aren’t you?” came Ombric’s voice from between Aster and Jack.

Aster yelped, whipping around and taking Jack with him.  Aster’s feet tangled over Jack’s heels, and the two fell in a heap on the deck.

North guffawed deeply, throwing his head back to the air.  Tooth couldn’t help a giggle of her own, as the entire crowd of children erupted in laughter.  Looking around, embarrassed, Aster scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off.

“What the hell was that, mate?” he shouted, driven more by shock than any actual anger.

Jack leapt to his feet, excitement flowing through his veins.  “That was awesome!” he exclaimed.  “How did you do that?”

Ombric winked at Jack, his eyes twinkling with mirth.  “Magic,” he said simply, “is a lot like science.  Only a little more… abstract.”

The next moment, Phil called from behind the captain’s wheel, grumbling loudly through his beard.

During their conversation, Jack hadn’t noticed their descent towards the castle.  High above them the metal spires towered, casting shadows across the deck of the ship.  They were below the main entrance, approaching the several rows of thick metal struts that jutted out from the ice cliff.  Each strut was twenty feet across, spanning the entire front of the castle, and different lengths, the smallest being just over twenty feet long, and the largest being at least two hundred.  Every dock was topped with glittering ice, creating a cold pathway along the steel.

As The Sleigh pulled in to the center dock, a whirring of metal filled the air.  Gears locked into place and steam erupted into the air as the dock came to life.  A metal hook extended on a pole, winding forward on its mechanical arm.  It latched onto The Sleigh, and pulled it in.  Another hook detached from the dock further along the ship, clanking with loud noise of clockwork.

Jack looked questioningly to Ombric.

The man answered his question before he’d opened his mouth.  “A combination, my boy.  Magic, clockwork, and maybe just a little bit of life.”

Confused, Jack made to ask another question, when Aster spoke up from his side, “Hey, mate, does that ship look familiar to you?”

The Australian put his arm around Jack’s shoulder and pointed, guiding the inventor’s gaze to one of the smaller docks, right at the very edge of the ice cliffs.  Anchored onto the metal strut was a small flying cruiser, its black sails folded up against the mast.  The balloons along its side were dark as coal dust, and the wood was painted back as night.  But the railings gleamed white, luminously outlining the shape of the boat.  It looked like a ghost ship unmasked in the daylight, only to be nearly invisible in the darkness of night.

From the tip of its single mast, a black flag, adorned with an embellished white G, fluttered in the breeze of the arctic canyon.

Jack narrowed his eyes.  Aster was right: it did look familiar.

“Hello, boys,” drawled an almost bored voice from the dock, drawing their attention back in shock.  Seraphina, dressed in a completely black winter coat, stepped forward, the feathers around her neck fluttering lightly in the breeze.  “It’s good to see you again, although it’s much sooner than I expected.  Why don’t you come down, and we’ll have a little chat, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this earlier today, but I forgot. And then I screwed up and accidentally posted this in Learning to Live… XD Anyways, I was going to write the next scene, but then I didn't because it's really long. And so the next chapter will be separate, and it shall be large. But because of this fact, I will not have it finished by Saturday, which is the deadline for the contest. But never fear! I shall still write this, and The Ice Club, and Learning to Live, and I will eventually continue the ROTBTD fic I was working on. Eventually. I'm working on The Ice Club right now, though, so it should be up later tonight, or tomorrow.


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